


Until Whenever

by TabisMouse



Category: Big Bang (Band), Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Action, Crossover, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Gen, M/M, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant, OT5 Friendship, OT6, Orgy, Pining, Romance, assassin top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 67,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabisMouse/pseuds/TabisMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Created out of need, six men find themselves linked in spirit and soul; Sensates, able to live a shared life as one. Scattered around the world they come together to find themselves and save themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was last year's Nano Fic. It is currently 95% complete and I've already worked through a solid month's worth of fic so there should be no interruptions to weekly posting. I am so excited to share this with you. Additionally this is a very plot driven story but I couldn't help but want to meander through this world. As such, I've also started and will be posting several series of side-fics ancilliary to the main story. Consider them more deleted scenes.
> 
> Much thanks to my wonderful babes, Sam and Candi and to Lily for doing a last minute read-through to assure me that I haven't destroyed everything. 
> 
> Finally, this is a rated fic and tags and warnings will be added as we get to the relevant parts of the story. I will provide trigger warnings where applicable. 
> 
> Ok I'm done talking. Enjoy!

He ran through darkness, long limbs devouring the meters between him and his mark with a speed and cunning born from years of training. The mission was a success, but he hadn’t been expecting dogs. Their baying howls pursued him setting his heart to thud painfully in his chest.  _ Faster _ . It was reckless, but memories of his childhood threatened at the edges of his mind. Gritting his teeth, he fought to push them down, ducking into a copse of trees, night vision goggles making up for the lack of moonlight.

His passage through the trees was almost soundless, but training couldn’t prevent him from getting turned around in the edges of an unfamiliar forest. He cursed the dogs and the surging panic that made him sloppy. There was a village nearby, he’d passed it on his way to-  _ avoid the village _ . He would make for the stream that ran alongside it. At the stream he could lose the dogs. 

_ Shit.  _ The lights of a small home danced into view as he neared the treeline. Removed the goggles to look down the hill bathed in moonlight he saw it. He  _ had _ gotten turned around. The outskirts of the village were just ahead, the stream glittering darkly, weaving down the hill and around it. He needed to get to it to lose the dogs, but salvation was on the other side of the village. 

As he slowed his approach, more lights came into view. The village was small and from his earlier recon populated mostly by seniors. He hoped they were like the old folks back home, settling in early to leave the streets empty. 

He skirted the few street lamps, letting shadows swallow his black clothing as he darted between houses. The dogs howled behind him again and his stomach churned. Losing his battle, the memories flashed, unstoppable, leaving a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. He was 10, starving, abandoned, chased by a pack of feral dogs. The hot breath of the girl on his back scorched his neck. Water had saved them then, it would save him now. 

Streetlights be damned, he sprinted towards the other end of the village, its soothing babble calling to him. The glow of moonlight shone white on a small outcropping over a pool in the stream. He made for it, childhood terror pushing him to great, leaping strides. 

Half a step before he reached the rocks his mind was again invaded. A woman this time, hair a shock of white over her pale face, her eyes deep wells of need. A man lay sleeping with his head pillowed in her lap. She whispered, “please, we need you.” His heart thudded in his chest and a quick succession of images followed in the blink of an eye. A camp bathed in the yellow glow of a fire; screaming crowds of people singing in unison; a strange fall of green fabric, a half made dress; the sticky feel of a cool blue sparring matt pressed to his cheek; a dreary urban street shrouded in rain.

He yelled in agony, deep voice harmonizing with another howl from the dogs as he missed his footing on the sheer white rock. Ice cold water claimed him, invaded him as he inhaled a mouthful. It seared his lungs. His stomach heaved. His training kicked back in and he pushed with great strokes towards the surface. Gasping as his head broke the surface and he let the current take him, mind still spinning. Too many images, too fast, bringing a pounding pain that seemed to threaten his sanity. He fought to hold on to consciousness but he felt it slipping as his mind was overwhelmed. He had to stop.

* * *

 

“Kang Daesung - Kang Daesung,” his name soared forth on the lips of thousands and Kang Daesung smiled. His band played in the background as he strutted across the stage. “You guys done?!” He shouted into his microphone. 

“Noooo!!!” His adoring fans shouted back. 

“Are you suuuure?!” He grinned at the nearest camera and the 10’ tall image of his own face mirrored down at him from a jumbo-screen out of the corner of his eye. The arena surged around him, calling for more, calling for him. He felt their love envelop him and he reveled in it. The beat underlying this moment caught him, he swayed slim hips to its rhythm. Daesung swirled, letting his jacket slip down his shoulders to expose tanned skin. He took pride in the cuts of bi and triceps. He worked hard for them. Squeals rose to a fever pitch as he slowly stripped of his jacket in time to the pumping of his chest. Women loved this move.

“Alright, alright,” he said, grinning so wide his eyes disappeared into endearing slits. “One more song for my beautiful girlfriends.”

The crowd roared and he looked back at the band. The lead guitarist smiled. His heart fluttered, but instead of smiling back he nodded and saved the surge of his heart for his fans. The first few notes of his first big solo hit rang out, melancholy and clear. The crowd’s shouts dulled to a low hum of the melody. He walked to the front of the stage and began to sing. 

It was a sad song, of ache and longing, a wish for fulfilled love. It hadn’t been real to him the first time he sang it, when he first made it big. It had all been acting then. But now - he let himself close his eyes for a brief moment and remembered the face that had just smiled at him. He focused on his guitarist’s - Jason’s - face and let the hope for love overwhelm him and pour forth through the microphone. 

He opened his eyes, Jason’s face still dancing in his mind as he sang to the sea of blue lightsticks. He sang and his fans sang back. The weight of his life pushed into him and he felt the enormity of the path he had walked to get to this very moment. All the pain, the struggle, the loneliness - filled by the sound of thousands of voices singing him his own song. 

He broke off mid word, unable to finish, tears flowing freely down his face. They sang beautifully. They sang to him. Jason soared on his guitar and Daesung wept. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into the mic as the song ended. “Thank you for sticking with me through everything. Thank you for loving me. I love you, Tokyo.” He bowed a full ninety degrees and brought the mic back up to shout, “GOOD NIGHT!” The lights cut out. Overwhelmed, he turned to make his way offstage. Just as he passed the drumet he stumbled and fell. Arms caught him, but he could not feel them as a storm of images pounded into him and he heard a woman’s voice, - soft, desperate - calling for him.

His head spun and he blinked to see Jason hovering over him, arms cradling him. He smiled and passed out.

* * *

 

The light in the atelier changed. Jiyong felt the subtle shift, sensed it in the way the colors on his dress-form filled out. He chewed on the pin stuck out of the corner of his lip and hummed to himself. Just a few more pins and a quick look over his sketches and he could collapse on the couch in his small back office. 

“Did you sleep here?”

Jiyong started up to see his assistant, Seungyoon, stride purposefully into the room, laden with steaming coffee, the strap of an acoustic guitar slashing his torso. Coffee scent pulled Jiyong away from his mannequin. He reached for his drink order, always the venti, leaving Seungyoon his paltry tall, and buried his nose in the smell of heaven.

“You haven’t slept have you?”

Jiyong grunted. Well tried to grunt. Mostly he moaned at the aroma of his coffee, clasped in two greedy hands. He let his eyes roll back a bit.

“You know you have to take care of yourself?”

Jiyong waved off Seungyoon’s nagging and walked to the drawings sprawled across his work table. “I have the basis of the prototype, and I sketched out the rest of the majority of the line. You should have enough here to make patterns for the biggest portion of it all.” 

Seungyoon propped his guitar against the far wall and moved to stand next to him, fingers ruffling through the sketches. He pulled one to him, colored in monochrome shades of  green and drawn in bold lines. He whistled. “This is going to be something.”

“Yeah, for my patron,” Jiyong said, “leave that one and just focus on the others. I’ll start on that one this afternoon, after I get back from the fabric store.”

“She’s really gonna wear it?”

“Kiko?” 

Seungyoon nodded.

“She said she would.” Jiyong brought up his coffee to hide his proud grin but didn’t drink.

A fist pushed at his shoulder. “Look at you, big time fashion designer.” 

Jiyong dropped the cup grinned wide, letting his pride show, just for a moment. “Whatever,” he said, pulling a forced serious face. “I’m gonna crash in back.” He began walking to his office.

“I can take you home and, wait, you’re not gonna drink your coffee?”

“And fight LA traffic at this time of morning? And the coffee’ll just keep me up.” He sauntered off, but couldn’t leave his best friend without a parting shot. “Tell Jinwoo-bie hi when you see him.” The sound of Seungyoon choking on his coffee was positively delightful.

He made it to his office and sank down into the large, overstuffed couch occupying one whole wall -  and a migraine struck. “Holy shit,” he groaned, gripping at his head. He was lucky he was already lying down as his vision blacked out. 

“Please-” it was a woman’s voice, lilting and soft, beautiful. She had an accent he couldn’t quite place, but he  _ was _ distracted.

Waves of pain rolled through his mind and he felt himself drawn to the image of a campfire before being submerged in ice. He gasped for breath and the voice came again. “We need you.” 

He reached towards the woman, and felt the rough face of bricks under his hands. The piercing high note of a guitar rang in his ear and he croaked for Seungyoon before passing out.

* * *

 

Morning sparring was one of Seungri’s daily highlights. He was all about the feel of his body flying around a mat, and schooling his partner. Well - usually it was the highlight.

“Come on, Riri,” Junsu’s face was far too happy as it looked down at him. 

“Fuck off,” Seungri whined. 

Junsu pinned him with thighs coming down on either side of his neck. “Big strong fighter not feelin it today?” Hands swatted at Seungri’s exposed head and he writhed, trying to get free.

“Shut up,” he hissed, eyes darting to eye the other pairs sparring around the gym. 

“Oh does Riri have a secret?” Junsu whispered almost as loudly as possible. Seungri bucked hard and Junsu let himself roll over. “Was little Ri out late last night?” Junsu teased, laying on his back and watching Seungri stand.

“You are the shittiest partner,” Seungri said, clutching at his head.

“Little Ri came home late last night, it is any wonder he is shit this morning?” Junsu waved a hand for Seungri to help him up.

Seungri moved to lever him up, only to let his hand go at the last moment. Junsu crashed back to the mat, falling in on himself laughing. Seungri stalked to the changing room, chased by the sound of Junsu’s teasing giggles. 

An arm slung itself over his shoulder as he stood at his locker and he winced, pulling away. “Oh shit, man, did you actually get hurt?”

Seungri tightened his lips and gave the barest nod. “Did you at least win last night?” Junsu’s fingers plucked at the shirt hanging off his shoulder, trying to get a peek. Seungri yanked the shirt over his head and revealed a splendidly purpling bruise. “Maaaaaaan,” Junsu said.

Seungri grinned. “I won.”

Junsu clapped a hand on his healthy side. “That’s my boy!”

“No, but seriously, man,” Seungri said, “try to keep it down about my fighting, ok? I don’t want to get kicked off the force.”

“Of course kid, I got you,” Junsu said, turning to his own locker and beginning to strip. “Oh, and Joongie packed us a lunch this morning, so no eating out today, k?”

Seungri nodded. They dressed in companionable silence, each pulling on the uniform of a Ciudad de Mexico police officer. Junsu waited for Seungri to do one final primp in front of the dull mirror before pulling him out to the break room for terrible coffee.

He managed one drink before dropping the cup and doubling over.

“Hey, I know it’s bad, but it isn’t that bad-,”Seungri clutched his head. “Hey, hey,” Junsu’s hands caught him before he could hit the floor. “Did you get hit that hard?”

Tears stung at Seungri’s eyes and he shook his head. “Migraine,” he gasped around the needles burying themselves in his skull. He was settled into a couch and felt Junsu move off. Seungri curled in around the agony, hands gripping his head. He could feel things, smell things. The pain was messing with his head. 

After an eternity he felt Junsu pulling him up. “Come on, the chief said I can take you home-”

Seungri let himself be guided to a car and he sensed more than felt Junsu driving right next to him. The pain left him useless, a blob of misery for Junsu to push and prod into the apartment they shared with Junsu’s cousin.

“Ri, Su?” Jaejoong’s voice was concerned.

“Migraine,” Junsu explained, guiding Seungri to his own room. “Here, Ri, you can’t sleep this off on the couch.”

He felt a bottle pressed to his lips. “Beer,” he heard in Jaejoong’s voice. He managed a few gulps before passing out.

* * *

 

The fire in the night’s chill was soothing, and the stars winked at him. The muted sounds of a sleeping forest lulled him. It was late, he should sleep but his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Hyo Rin. Youngbae sighed as he struggled to remember the smell of her skin. Even the sound of her laugh was a stretch, their last call over a month gone. 

He tried to imagine that the stars he was gazing were shining down on her at that very moment. But he knew better. His own memories told him that starlight didn’t make it into Seoul. 

He wrenched his mind away from her before his heart could ache and instead thought of his class. Little Haru-ya had been absolutely precious this afternoon, asking her Bae-oppa to give her a kiss on her cherubic little cheek. Of course he had acquiesced. He was a pushover for the little ones. 

Little Jihoonie, though - that boy was a problem and a half. Not for the first time he considered approaching the rambunctious child’s mother, and again he discarded the idea. The woman had enough on her plate.

Thoughts of those two brought the rest of the roster to mind. They weren’t really a class, more, they were his charges, but they helped him fill his days. He let his mind settle on them each in turn, worries and concerns and pride flitting through his mind in their turn. 

He must have drifted off because he was certain he was dreaming. There was a woman, hair white and eyes hauntingly sad. Hazel, he registered. She was pale, not just the pale of a white woman but pale with fear. Her fingers were twined in the hair of the man’s head in her lap. He was also white; built, handsome, and asleep. His mouth was slack, drool staining the pale denim of the woman’s pants.

“Riley,” the man whispered. Youngbae felt a pull and his eyes returned to the woman, Riley. She was pulling him, calling him. He reached for her and felt the barest brush of her mind press up against his. Their eyes met. 

“I can see them,” she whispered. “I can see them through you.” Together their minds cast out and he could see them, too. 

A gangster running through the narrow streets he knew must be somewhere in Europe. A fighter being flipped onto a sparring mat. A man focused on the drape of fabric on a mannequin. A singer, in the middle of a concert, whose face and song were vaguely familiar. A man, floating in chilled water, looking up at the stars.

“There are many,” Riley whispered, “almost as many as us.” Youngbae focused on her again. “Please, we need you.” He felt her need surge through him. 

He started up, awake, fire down to glowing embers. He felt the beginnings of a headache but pushed himself up. He’d recognized something in the flash of images. He tossed fresh logs onto the coals and ran to the bank of the stream just up the path from his camp site.

He stopped to scan the water in faint starlight as the moon ducked behind a cloud. There, caught in a bramble of branches was a dark figure. He rushed to the bank and pulled at the man trapped in the water, looking up at the stars. The man groaned but allowed himself to be pulled toward the campfire. 

Youngbae stripped him of his wet shirt and coat to lay them beside the fire. He paused for a moment, breath frozen in his chest. The man was beautiful, stunning, as handsome as Kim Woobin, no, more handsome. He was handsome and cold. Youngbae could feel the chill of his flesh as his own. 

He was cold and in pain. Not a headache. No, Youngbae sensed a pain somewhere else. He turned to the man’s pants and saw the unnatural twist of his leg. He slid the pants the rest of the way off.

Youngbae cursed, the man’s leg was broken. He racked his mind for what to do, and he brushed up against - something - 

He had a sense of light and laughter and words flitted into his head. “He needs a hospital and a splint.” Youngbae didn’t question the knowledge, just cursed his lack of cell service and went to go find branches long and straight enough to use as a splint, taking care to cover the man with his sleeping bag. He returned with the two best branches he could find in five minutes and stripped off his shirt. He ripped it into strips and gingerly bound the man’s legs to the splints. 

Youngbae’s hands shook with the effort of staving off the headache. He needed to get to town. He needed to get the man out of here. He needed - he was fading. He managed to tie off the last knot and crawled up the man’s body and wrapped them in the sleeping bag, pressed skin to skin, to join the man in senseless sleep. They shivered themselves to warmth as the fire crackled.

* * *

 

Hyunsung was looking; had been looking; could almost hear Hyuna’s voice, calling to him, begging him to find her. He had to find her. He would never forgive Pierre. 

The streets of Paris flitted by as he ran. There was a lead. Jaques had said a dealer in Montmartre had mentioned seeing Pierre and where Pierre was, Hyuna would be.  

Finding her was his hunger, his thirst. There was no rest until he found his twin.

The grey streets of the city consumed him, devoured him. 

He heard a woman begging him, pleading with him. A woman said she needed him. 

He would find her.


	2. Seunghyun

Pain woke him, but he kept his eyes closed, observing his surroundings without eyes while feigning sleep. He was moving, slowly but steadily, laid out on - his mind searched - a travois. He rotated his hands and felt slick fabric, a sleeping bag, tied and trussed between branches. He was half-naked, a thermal blanket tucked tight to him. He tested his weight as he rocked against the rhythm of the travois. His weapons were gone and his left leg jolted painfully with every bump, likely broken. There was a dull buzzing at the back of his mind.

He cracked an eye. It was just before dawn. Trees were swaying overhead in the dim light. He looked up. A man was pulling him. Closing his eyes he analyzed, the man was short, petite but strong going by their stead pace. He estimated about 5’ 4”, 5’ 5” tall at most. He took care of himself, the muscles of his back had been clearly defined. Still, the man had to be tired.

The pain in his leg was surging, becoming something he could no longer ignore. He bit his lips but the grunt was unavoidable.

The man stopped and looked back, angular jaw and fine nose, smallish eyes and parted brown hair.  “You’re awake,” he said. The man laid down his branches with obvious care and moved to kneel beside him. “I’m Dong Youngbae,” he bowed his head, “I was camping close to the stream and I found you.”  A canteen was pressed to his lips. “I had to rip up your clothes to rig this, and I splinted your leg-”

The hand holding the canteen as he drank brushed against his jaw and suddenly he was looking down at himself, pain completely gone. His body was smaller, tighter, and he was tired, aching in every muscle. He gasped and wrenched himself mentally, and he was looking up again. The pain of his leg slammed back into him and he cried in earnest, tears stinging his eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Youngbae’s voice was a low croon. A hand pressed on his chest over the blanket and, blissfully, he stayed in his own mind. “It’s ok, you’re ok. I won’t touch you again.” Youngbae looked up their path. “Look we’re only about a mile out from where I parked and I can drive you into the hospital in Daegu.”

“No,” he said. Youngbae looked at him in question. “No hospital.”

Youngbae’s eyes glazed, his eyelids drooped and he was silent for several long minutes. “Ok, no hospital. But you need some attention. Look, I know the head doctor at the village clinic. It’s small but they have an x-ray machine and - you need to get your leg looked at.”

He knew, with certainty, that he could not fight against Youngbae. The face of the doctor floated to the surface of his mind, as did Youngbae’s certainty that the woman was trustworthy. He nodded.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” _Choi Seunghyun?_ That last had whispered in his mind in Youngbae’s voice.

“Lee Myung Hoon,” he managed. Youngbae nodded. He rose and took up the branches of Seunghyun’s travois and began to walk.

Seunghyun fought against the pain. His eyes fluttered and he started. Youngbae was sitting on his chest. “Hey,” he smiled.

Seunghyun looked up and Youngbae was still pulling him. He could see his back. “You can see me this way can’t you?” The Youngbae perched on his lap said. He had no weight, Seunghyun realized.

“You’re not really there,” Seunghyun said.

“No, I’m not,” the voice came in stereo from ahead and behind him. “Can you feel the others?” Youngbae asked.

“Others?”

Youngbae shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Seunghyun’s mind spun. He grimaced as they hit a large rock.

“Here,” the Youngbae on his lap said. “Let your body feel the pain, come with me.” Seunghyun was confused. Youngbae’s smile was teasing. “Reach up and put your hand on my wrist.”

He reached out, fingers encircling a delicate wrist, and he was walking, upright, the weight of two branches pulling at his shoulders. He nearly stumbled but managed to keep upright. He heard laughter and turned to look behind him. His body was lying, alone, tucked in over the travois.

“ _You’re in me, Seunghyun,”_ Youngbae whispered in his mind.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“ _With you,”_ came the reply. His mind reeled in confusion. “ _We are sharing my body, so you don’t have to bear the pain.”_ Silenced stretched as he walked. “ _Did you see_ her? _Last night, did you see the woman.”_

The memory came of a white woman with white hair, sitting crosslegged with a shadow in her lap.

 _“Riley,”_ Youngbae explained. “ _I think - I think she called us. She called us and I saw you, I saw the others. I saw where you were in the flash and knew you were close by, knew you needed me. I found you and brought you to my campsite. You were delirious most of the night. You kept phasing in and out while I put this together. If I touched you there were moments when I felt you_ press _into me-”_ Seunghyun tried to digest that but the words made no sense. _“I know it sounds insane but it’s true. I think we are connected, somehow. You’re sharing this space with me. That pressing feeling, it was your conscious pushing into me, I think, and it seemed to ease the pain.”_

The image of himself last night appeared in his mind. His naked body warmed by a fire as Youngbae wrapped and splinted his leg. He felt this body’s arousal at the memory in _his_ body’s naked form. He felt Youngbae _blush_ sharing the memory with him. Youngbae’s heart thudded in their shared chest. Seunghyun felt the pull of his own yearning, longing, attraction, in response. He looked down to appreciate Youngbae’s sweat slicked body. The Youngbae in his mind blushed harder.

“You said there were others?” Seunghyun asked, needing distance from the emotion. A series of images flitted through his mind, familiar and foreign at the same time.

_“Maybe I can reach them and they can do what we are doing too. I don’t know them, but I feel them. I tried reaching out to them like I did to you just now but I am not sure I’m doing it right.”_

“How much further?”

“ _Not far, just over that last hill, then we’ll be at the truck and I can drive you into town.”_

Seunghyun nodded. As they cleared the hill a dusty old farm truck came into view. He walked a little faster, wanting to get off the trail and safely away. He stopped at the back of the truck and realized that his body’s hand had dropped from Youngbae’s wrist as he’d been walking.

“ _So we don’t need the touch after all,”_ Youngbae said. “ _Maybe it just made it easier. I wonder how to get to the others.”_ Seunghyun grunted.

He managed to lift his body up onto the truck bed. A sense of vertigo clouded his mind as he looked down into his own glazed eyes. He’d never seen his face like this, he thought, and reached in the pocket of his jeans for the keys.

“ _Wait,”_ Youngbae called and he froze. “ _Gym bag behind the driver’s seat. Get me a shirt, please.”_

Several teasing remarks came to mind but he said none of them. He felt Youngbae’s embarrassment spike, like they’d been said anyways. He pulled the lever to trigger the seat forward and hauled a shirt from the gym bag. He shrugged into it, rolling his shoulders into the feel of unfamiliar muscles. Youngbae’s body was strong, honed, but it moved in a completely unfamiliar ways.

He mentally smiled and started up the truck. “Do you want to drive us there?” Seunghyun asked.

“ _Oh, sure.”_

Seunghyun attempted to move back and allow Youngbae control and he slammed back into his body. He shouted in agony at the onslaught of pain. Hands cupped his shoulders, shaking him. “Come back, come back,” Youngbae’s voice was taut with worry. The hands shaking him felt wrong. His eyes focused and he realized this was the phantom Youngbae. “Come back,” Youngbae whispered.

And he was back in the front seat, small hands gripping the wheel.

“ _If you’re here you have to be in control,”_ Youngbae said. “ _Drive, I’ll tell you where to go.”_

 

The clinic was small but well equipped. “ _It’s the only clinic in 50 miles. It’s got to be good enough to handle whatever comes up with farm life.”_

The doctor who’s face matched Youngbae’s mental image, though less pretty in person Seunghyun noted, appeared from a back room as they entered.

“Youngbae-sshi,” she said.

“Dara-sshi,” he said, as Youngbae provided the name. He retreated to himself to let Youngbae handled the explanations. The pain of his body was excruciating. He bit down on his lip, refusing to cry out as he stared up at the crystal blue sky. Thankful, he didn’t have to wait long in the truck bed before Youngbae and Dara and a young man appeared to carry him inside.

“Lee Myung Hoon-sshi, I’m Dr. Park Sandara. Your friend has explained what happened on your camping trip and we’re gonna set you all right. This,” she rested a hand on the arm of the man beside her, “is my brother and your nurse Park Cheondong. He and Youngbae are going to use this stretcher to move you into the clinic where we can treat your leg. Ok?”

Seunghyun nodded.

The trip into the clinic was excruciating. Cheondong rushed off as soon as he was settled and returned with painkillers which he choked down. He lay passive as Dr. Park examined him.

“Hope for a hairline fracture,” a voice said. Seunghyun and Youngbae looked up in unison. A petite man stood looking over Dr. Park’s shoulder. His hair a shocking shade of red falling into his eyes, and the hints of tattoos peeking from under the neck of his shirt. Both Seunghyun and Youngbae could see the man, but Dr. Park seemed oblivious.

“A hairline fracture hurts like a bitch, but heals quick and if set right, clean,” the man looked up at them. “Jiyong,” he supplied.

“Ok, Youngbae-sshi, if you’ll wait here we will take your friend to the x-ray room and get a look at what he’s done to himself,” Dr. Park said, her words overlapping Jiyong’s.

Jiyong  stood and looked over at Youngbae. He grinned a bright wide smile. “Some dream,” he said, before turning to follow Seunghyun on his way to x-rays. He fluttered back and forth from Seunghyun’s side to the room behind a large window where the nurse stood to trigger the x-ray machine. Were it not for the fact that Youngbae had obviously seen Jiyong, he’d be sure he was going mad.

“All this shit is in Korean, wild,” Jiyong said and Seunghyun just watched him. “So,” Jiyong said, “At least it doesn’t look like a compound fracture, and it didn’t break skin. They’ll probably give you a cast and some nice, heavy pain killers and send you home. Bathing’s gonna suck.”

If he could be inside Youngbae’s body while trekking through the woods, a talking fireball dispensing medical advice seemed fairly reasonable.

“Ok, Myung Hoon-sshi,” the nurse said, “We’re through, let’s head back and start prepping you for a cast.”

Seunghyun expected Jiyong to follow but he muttered something about a fight, and how awesome this nap was, and disappeared.

Youngbae was fidgeting as he sat in the chair in Seunghyun’s room. “The x-rays won’t take long Youngbae-sshi. Please wait here and we will return to put a cast on Myung-Hoon-sshi’s leg.”

The nurse left. Seunghyun looked at Youngbae. “Jiyong?” Youngbae asked.

“Disappeared.”

“He was one of them, the ones I saw last night.” Seunghyun made no reply. “Look, do you live in Seoul?” Seunghyun nodded. “Family?” Seunghyun looked at Youngbae. Their eyes met and there was a beat of silence before he shook his head. “Friends?” Youngbae sighed. “Is there anyone there who can help you get around, take care of you, take you to the hospital for checkups?”

“No-”

“No hospitals, ok, yes, I know.” Youngbae’s eyes narrowed.

“I live alone.”

“Alright then, it’s settled,” Youngbae said, “you’re coming to stay with me and my gran until you heal.”

Seunghyun’s face screwed up in outrage. “Hey-”

Youngbae looked at him wide eyed. “You have no one to look out for you.”

“I have a job,” Seunghyun said.

“Call in sick, besides, I have a feeling that your _day_ job isn’t that important to you.”

Seunghyun couldn’t argue. But he could let himself stew in frustration and pretend he wasn’t aware of Youngbae’s satisfied smile.

 

Hours later, they arrived at Youngbae’s small, traditionally built house on the outskirts of the village Seunghyun had run through the night before. Rows of fields began just past its low stone wall. Youngbae parked the truck in front of the entry gate and rushed to open Seunghyun’s door. Seunghyun took the crutches Youngbae held and levered himself down.

He hobbled through the gate, grimacing at the bite of the crutches at his arms. There was a large open yard embraced on three sides by the raised rooms of the house.

“This is the kitchen,” Youngbae said. He pointed at the central room. “Gran sleeps in that room there,” he waved to the right. “You can share with me in there,” he waved to the left wing.

Seunghyun said nothing but was aware of a prickle at the back of his neck. Youngbae had rushed that last sentence. He began swinging his way towards the room they were apparently to share, Youngbae’s room. He stared at the step and leaned to prop his crutches on the porch. Maneuvering awkwardly he sat to remove his boots, the only survivor of his clothes from last night.

“Here.”

He looked up. Youngbae held out a faded pair of jeans and a longsleeved button-up. “You probably don’t want to stay in those scrubs.” Seunghyun met Youngbae’s eyes. Youngbae stammered. “I’ll put them in the room for you, they’re my grandfather’s.” He slipped off his shoes and stepped up into the house. He pulled the crutches up with him and reached down for Seunghyun.

They made it to the room which was nearly bare. The floor was open. A wardrobe stood against one wall, a low desk with a computer and phone against the other, sized to be on the floor when used. “Traditional,” Seunghyun said.

“Yeah,” Youngbae blushed. “It’s my grandparent’s house. They had a farm. I grew up here until-,” he broke off. “Gran is visiting some old friends for the week in a town over. I’ll call her and tell her one of my Seoul friends came for a visit.” Seunghyun wanted to smile as he listened to Youngbae babble. “Sorry, I’ll let you change.”

Seunghyun stood in the room feeling - feeling. He shook his head and shut down. He managed to slide on the shirt without problem. The pants were a problem. The scrubs came off just fine. He leaned against the wall and managed to get one leg in the pants. He tried to prop himself up to get the other leg in and grunted in pain.

He closed his eyes and reached out. Youngbae was in the center room, preparing dinner. Seunghyun wasn’t sure if he was doing it right but he imagined himself in the room and sensed nothing. He shook his head and thought of Youngbae, and was in the kitchen. Youngbae was standing at a counter cutting carrot. He walked to stand beside him. The knife clattered to the counter.

“Woah, I didn’t even hear you,” Youngbae said. Seunghyun crooked the corner of his mouth. “Do you need help?” Youngbae paused. “I’ll be right there.”

Seunghyun sagged against the wall, eyes still closed, to wait. The door behind him slid open and there was a pause before he heard Youngbae’s soft steps into the room.

“Bathroom,” Youngbae babbled, coming in but pointedly not looking at Seunghyun. “Connects this room to the other. Yeah, you’re going to need help. Here.” It did not take feeling Youngbae’s emotions in a tight knot in the back of Seunghyuns mind for him to know that attraction was keeping Youngbae’s eyes from his exposed chest. Still the warm flutters were, intriguing and satisfying. And dangerous. They were pulling other emotions out of Seunghyun, one’s he had locked away long ago.

Youngbae slid smoothly in under Seunghyun’s free side, an arm wrapped around his waist. His hand slipped along the skin of Seunghyun’s hip and they both gasped. Heat ran up Seunghyun’s spine and he simultaneously felt the press of Youngbae’s hand on him, and the heat of his own skin ghosting along his palm.

Youngbae’s hand slid down to the hem of his pants. “Sorry,” he whispered. He knelt and tugged them up Seunghyun’s good leg. He stepped away and coughed. He stood, fingers twitching with suppressed fidgets and Seunghyun had the urge to hold him. It had been so long since he’d touched someone, held someone. He wondered what it would feel like to press Youngbae into him. Their eyes met and they breathed deeply, in sync, for a long moment before he looked away.

“I have a bit of dinner put together. Mostly leftovers, some vegetables,” Youngbae said, words running together, “I can go out back and get some kimchii. Um-” he shrugged, “there isn’t much to do here at night but watch tv or read or-. I have some soju as well.”

Seunghyun nodded. Fatigue began spreading through him and an ache spread from his leg. “Here let me set you down, and-” Youngbae reached for Seunghyun and began lowering him towards the ground, “I’ll get some pillows and prop you up.” Youngbae pulled a pile of pillows out and built them up against the wall opposite the computer. “Here lean back, I’ll bring dinner into here and we could, um, watch something?”

Seunghyun leaned himself back into the pillows. He waited as Youngbae scuttled around, bringing a low table laden with food to settle in front of Seunghyun. He left and returned with water and Seunghyun’s pain pills. Seunghyun took them and waited for Youngbae to settle but he got up to fiddle with the computer. “Are you watching anything right now? Do you watch dramas, movies?” Seunghyun shrugged.

“The Producer’s has been kind of cute. IU-sshi is my favorite singer. I can put that on - and we can start from the first episode for you.” Seunghyun enjoyed watching Youngbae. He was so nervous and anxious as he scuttled around. He hadn’t been cared for since-

“Do you need anything? Are your pillows ok?” Youngbae knelt beside him to mess with the pillows and Seunghyun turned from his thoughts to watch Youngbae’s face. He had dark eyes, small maybe but expressive. Seunghyun liked the way they looked.

He laid his hand on Youngbae’s arm. “Thank you, Youngbae-sshi, for taking care of me and bringing me here.” Youngbae’s cheeks turned bright red. He ducked his head.

“Of-of course,” he said.

Seunghyun pulled at him to sit beside him at the table.

The show began playing but Seunghyun continued watching Youngbae instead. It had been less than 24 hours and this man had sunk into him. He was bright and happy. And beautiful. Brown hair fell over his eyes as he reached over the table, piling kimchi and carrot over his rice.

They made it through 2 episodes and 3 bottles of soju as night really fell around them. Youngbae flicked on his desk lamp and settled back against the wall with Seunghyun. He pushed their table aside with a leg.

“So,” Youngbae asked, a slight slur to his words. “Do you live in Seoul?”

Seunghyun tilted his head down.

“I lived in Seoul for a time. I grew up here, in this room” Youngbae waved a hand to encompass their small space. “It’s so strange. I just met you but I feel -,” a hand reached out for his but froze, landing heavily on his forearm, “I feel like I’ve always known you.”

There was a flutter in Seunghyun’s heart. His own emotions, not reflections of Youngbae’s. He pulled his arm back so it slipped underneath Youngbae’s. There was a low moan as their skin touched, fingers sliding against one another but, like had happened every time, it was impossible to tell who was who. Seunghyun considered fighting it but every time it happened it was electric, felt both in body and mind and it stirred a craving deep within him.

“I don’t know you, though,” Youngbae whispered. “Do I?”

“No,” Seunghyun said. The memory of where he had been last night came back. “No, you don’t,” he finished, voice rough. He moved to shift away but Youngbae’s fingers between his tightened.

“My mother died when I was a little boy. It was just me and my dad in here,” Youngbae said as his thumb stroked over Seunghyun’s index finger. Seunghyun couldn’t breathe. “All through highschool I sat at that desk. I was smart, you know, best in my class. Top 10% of the national in exams. I was accepted into University. I moved there; after I graduated. With my girlfriend - Hyorin. She’s a dancer.” Seunghyun’s stomach churned. _Girlfriend_.

“But my dad died, you see,” Youngbae continued. “And then it was just my grandfather and gran, here, trying to manage the farm by themselves. There are the neighbors, you know, but they’re getting on. I couldn’t leave them. So I came back. Helped them out. Hyorin stayed.” Seunghyun shifted away from Youngbae, letting their hands separate.

“We try to see each other, when we can. She graduated, she’s a professional now. We’re saving - we were - for a place so gran and I can move out there. We were saving -

‘My grandfather died five years back, heart attack, and we sold the farm.” Youngbae slid along the wall and leaned against Seunghyun’s shoulder. Seunghyun was confused. The unfamiliar emotions welling in him were too much. He tried to make sense of what Youngbae was saying, of the heated need coursing in his veins, the ache thudding with every beat of his heart, the craving for the sensations that rippled through his soul every time he touched Youngbae. _But there is a girlfriend_ , he tried to reason with himself. Yet disappointment was not what was rolling off Youngbae, still pressed against his side.

“We aren’t moving to Seoul,” Youngbae whispered and one of his hands moved up over Seunghyun’s body.  “She’s been seeing someone else. For years apparently.” Seunghyun was hypnotized by the way delicate skin moved over the tendons of Youngbae’s hands. “He proposed. She’s marrying someone else.”

Seunghyun looked to Youngbae. His face was flushed, his eyes soft. He was beautiful.

“I thought I was heartbroken,” Youngbae said. “Yesterday I thought I was broken without her.” Youngbae could never be broken. “Yesterday I felt like a waste.”

“You aren’t a waste,” Seunghyun whispered.

A hand came up and hovered over Seunghyun’s jaw but stopped short just of contact. Youngbae waited for him, eyes calm, patient. Seunghyun cupped Youngbae’s face in both his hands and pulled him close, pressing their lips together. He felt Youngbae, he felt himself, their twinned arousals surged through him. Youngbae moaned his name. His real name, not the name he had given.

“This is amazing,” Youngbae said, pulling back to look up at Seunghyun. “I feel both of us, I feel you, I feel me.” Seunghyun kissed him again and again, drowning of Youngbae’s taste on his lips on the taste of himself, on the echoing rhythm of their twinned heart beats.

Dizzy, he broke off long minutes later, gasping and trying to even his breathing. Youngbae’s forehead pressed into his neck. He never wanted them to stop touching.

“I feel them too,” Youngbae whispered, “the others. Do you feel them yet?”

Seunghyun thought he did. It didn’t matter. He pulled Youngbae in for another kiss.


	3. Daesung

It had been midday before Daesung’s migraine eased. He’d spent the day in his hotel room, sleeping it off and eating. Or rather, he tried to get himself to eat a bit but after several feeble bites he gave up and called his driver. He would just be a little early for his call. 

He arrived just as the band was filing out of their own van. Jason brought up the rear, turning to  give him a little wave and pausing to wait. Daesung’s heart fluttered. He smiled in return and walked over to go into the dome with him. 

“Are you feeling better?” Jason asked. 

“Yeah, so much. I slept it off.” Daesung said and smiled as what vestiges of the migraine that remained evaporated. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Of course,” Jason said. 

They walked into the darkened venue, and paused a moment to let their eyes adjust to the transition of the light. “I’m glad you were ok, you were pretty out of it.”

“There you are,” a woman’s voice echoed through the hall. “You’re early, Daesung-ah.”

Daesung bowed. “Hi mom, yeah,” he kissed her cheek, “I was sick of holing up in my hotel room and decided to come in and get hair and makeup done early.”

“Good boy,” Mamma Kang said as she pulled his arm into hers. They walked together down to the dressing room, leaving Jason to make his own way to the stage. “I have to say, Daesung-ah, I am so proud of you. Look at this, love. After everything we’ve struggled for you’re here, your second night opening at the Tokyo dome, right before an international tour.”

Daesung blushed and basked in his mother’s pride. She led him to the makeup chair, settling him in while rattling off the reviews of the previous night. “The bloggers and fan sites were up almost as soon as the show was over. In general reviews have been incredibly positive. The fan cams of Rainy, Rainy-” she broke off to meet his eyes in the mirror, hands pausing their run through his hair. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. “It was beautiful Daesung-ah. Beautiful.” She leaned to place a kiss at the crown of his head and smoothed his hair as she pulled back. “It was perfect, baby boy.”

Daesung blinked furiously. “Moo-oom stop.” He brushed his fingers over his eyes and walked into his dressing room.

She shook her head and collected herself. “Uh,” she groused, following him, “let me bask in my motherly love.” She said, lips turning in a wry smile. She swatted at his head and moved to the counter. “I’ll get you started until your usual girl gets here. Kim does such good work on your makeup so I’ll just stick to hair.” She grabbed for the large brush and spray bottle and set to work. 

Daesung closed his eyes and let her chatter wash over him. He wrinkled his nose as she sprayed half a can of hairspray in his hair. He’d never liked the smell of the stuff. The stage manager came around while she was working and indicated they could soundcheck as soon as he was ready. 

He heard the sound of the band tuning up, echoing down from the stage. His heart began to thud, heavy in his chest as the sound of the guitar wailed. In his mind he conjured the image of Jason, plucking at the strings, dark-skinned hands cradling the guitar. He fixated on the way his forearms would look, flexing as they moved over the strings. 

“You’re done,” his mother said. “Oh, honey, you look flushed.” Her hand pressed against his forehead. “Are you alright? Is it another headache?”

“No, mom,” he waved her off with his hand and a duck of his head. “I’m fine.” He rushed out of the makeup chair and rushed up the stairs to the stage, taking them two at a time. There was a series of screams from the VIP fans standing in the pit. He put on his thousand watt smile and waved to them, giving them a twirl and a bow. 

The band began to play and he strutted across the stage to make sure he shared himself with all his fans. Jason started up on the guitar again and Daesung wandered back to the band, bringing the mic to his lips and singing. It was a fast beat, a dance song. He chacha-ed while singing, letting the sound guys calibrate his voice. Jason grinned at him and stepped out to solo on the guitar. Daesung returned the grin and slid up to dance with him. 

He was flirting. Usually he didn’t let himself be this obvious. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. His crush on his lead guitarist was uncontrollable. He tried to remind himself he had a girlfriend, tried to remind himself of her name, but Jason was flirting back. he gave Daesung a wink and a smile and began to rock his hips behind the guitar. 

The stadium seemed to spin around them and time looped itself around the beats of the lead, Jason’s fingers flying in a blur over his guitar but his eyes still hooked on Daesung’s. Lust spiked in him, overwhelming and disturbingly foreign. The world pulsed in time to the beat of his heart, three beats, four, as Jason played and their eyes held one another. 

He wrenched himself away and back to the front of the stage, panting to catch his breath. 

He stayed with his fans for the second song. The stage manager waved and nodded from his booth and relief flooded Daesung. It was momentary, though, as when he turned and began to make his way off the stage a water bottle blocked his way. 

“Hey,” Daesung said, voice wavering. He took the bottle from Jason’s hands and drank. More as a means to avoid looking in Jason’s eyes, his heart still racing and cheeks burning.

“You sound good,” Jason said, and his voice was deep and warm.

“Yeah,” Daesung said and couldn’t help flipping his hair to grin at Jason.

“I was worried about your voice, singing so much back to back but-”

“You always worry about me!” Daesung said and immediately regretted the words. They were too real, too honest, too close to that which they danced around but never approached. 

“I do,” Jason said quietly, joining Daesung on the edge of the line they could not cross. Risking heart failure, Daesung crushed the bottle and rushed off the stage, unable to meet Jason’s eyes but feeling their burn as he retreated.

“Hey,” Kim said, waving him to her chair. 

He tossed the bottle and  threw himself into the chair, covering his face in his hands. His blood was fire under his skin. 

“You ok, Dae?” Kim asked as she began arranging her make-up trays. She looked at him, face still buried in hands. “Jason?” She whispered.

He nodded.

She pressed a finger at his forehead, pushing his head up. “You know you just gotta get rid of what’s her name and go after that fine, fine guitar player. You know he -”

“Yes I know.” Daesung pouted. He sat back and she set to work applying foundation. “I know, Kim. I know. I just - I can’t.”

“He looks at you while he plays,” she said, in a low voice as she hovered over him, lining his eyes. “He watches you, and there is a look on his face. If you went to him, if you asked, he’d be yours.”

Daesung grimaced. “No more talking. I can’t,” he said. 

She said no word and yet the lecture continued as she made him up. He stood and mumbled, “shut it, Kim.” She reached out a hand and patted his shoulder gently. “I just want you to be happy, Dae.”

Daesung nodded. “You know you’re my favorite.”

“Of course I am, now go slay those fangirls.”

There was still time before the show. Usually he liked to take a moment and meditate, but the arousal that had been building during soundcheck and had abated while Kim lectured him with her eyes returned in full force. He felt a vague tingling in the back of his mind. His heart was racing and the images from his migraine the night before popped randomly into his head. A dark man, and another man, smiling. He had an impression of their faces for a flash before another wave of arousal rushed through him. 

He made his way to the restroom and locked the door. He spread his hands on the cool tile, the lust was overwhelming. He wanted, he needed - he pressed his face against the tile, hoping the chill would soothe the blood flushing his cheeks. He rotated his hips and his thickening cock pressed against his too-tight jeans. 

He closed his eyes and the memory of Jason rolling his body while holding his guitar came, unbidden. 

He had to - he had to be quick. He couldn’t breathe as he unzipped his pants. He was going to be quick. His hand gripped his length and stroked, fast. He had the impression of lips pressed against his, of a large, gangly body wrapped around him. He thrust into his hand and came against the tile.

“Dang,” he whispered. He moved to grab towels to clean up. “What the heck was that?” He whispered to himself. He cleaned up and zipped himself up, feeling embarrassed. He had to focus. He left the restroom and made his way to the stage.

 

There was an after party. Celebrating a strong start to his concert tour. There were dozens, a couple hundred people, all vying to talk to him, drink with him. He smiled and signed autographs and kissed cheeks and ached for home. 

The band came around, to toss one back, to tease him for flirting with the models when he was a taken man. He couldn’t help but notice that Jason was silent for that last bit. Their eyes met, straight on and the stared at each other in flashing darkness. If Daesung were drunker he might have waved at Jason to stay behind when the band left to take a turn with the models. 

He managed to get a few moments alone, in a private booth reserved just for him. He felt a buzz of his phone and he swiped it open. A text from Kim, no words, just a sarcastic looking little face. He couldn’t help but laugh. As he held it the phone rang and Mina’s face appeared over her number. She was supposed to look cute, aegyo face and little fists held up to cheeks but the sight of it made him angry. He rejected the call and walked to the back of the club to slip out back. 

He stopped at a corner store on his way back to the hotel, face covered in a mask and hood low over his eyes, so he could buy a case of soju. His next show wasn’t for a week, and his next schedule wasn’t for two days, a photoshoot or something. Getting drunk and sleeping until tomorrow afternoon seemed like the best course of action.

The depression after a show was always overwhelming.

 

His hotel room had a spectacular view. He sat and gazed at the twinkling lights of Tokyo and poured drink after drink. He tried to remember 15 year old Daesung, innocent and hungry for exactly what he had right now. Wealth, fame, a beautiful girlfriend, critical acclaim. He tried to remember the sleepless nights, the abuse he’d pushed on his body, to get here, alone in a hotel room on top of the world, tears of self-pity coursing down his face.

What reason did he have to cry? He asked himself. He had everything to fill the void of nothingness eating through his heart. He thought of his fans, adoring, screaming his name. But not a one of them knew him. Not a one of them would stand by his side if he did what his heart ached to do; if he called Jason and told him to come to the penthouse of the hotel. If he got on his knees and worshiped his body with his tongue. 

He was disgusted with himself. 

He poured another drink.

“Pour me one?”

The voice came from behind him, Daesung was so far gone he couldn’t even jump in surprise, he just swayed around to look at the smiling boy looking at him. He strained his eyes to focus and readjusted his judgment. The boy looked like he might be Daesung’s own age, but his smile and short cropped hair made him look younger. 

He jumped over the back of the couch and snuggled into the overstuffed cushions. “You shouldn’t drink alone.” Daesung nodded in agreement at such profound insight and poured a glass for the other man, taking the bottle for himself. 

“Seungri,” the man said, taking the shot in one go. 

“Daesung.”

“So,” Seungri said, “that is-” he waved at the window.

“Tokyo,” Daesung said. 

“I’ve never been to Tokyo,” Seungri said. “Been everywhere else though. You know,” he said after taking his shot, “I can’t really taste this.” Daesung looked at the glass in Seungri’s hand. He grabbed it and swallowed, savoring its burn on his tongue. Seungri closed his eyes. He smiled. “I get a hint of that.”

“I lived almost everywhere, you know,” Seungri continued. “Well no, I guess you don’t. My dad - is an ambassador - Korean. Every three years a new post. Japan, Malaysia, Australia, Germany, Honduras, Mexico. I got sick of it at that last one. Every three years having to start over. Every three years having to make new friends I knew I’d have to leave again in three years.”

Daesung watched Seungri talk, drink forgotten in hand. “I hated it, but I was good at it, you know? I can make friends easy. I don’t like to but I can.” Seungri looked at Daesung.

“I said “enough” one day. My dad came home and said he was off to Europe and I told him no. My best friend in the world was in Mexico, he and his cousin had taken me in and I just couldn’t leave them. I couldn’t. They took me in and my dad just left. But I got to build my own life, on my own terms.”

He brought legs up to wrap with his arms. His eyes were wide and patient. “Now you.” He rested his cheeks on his knees and watched Daesung.

“I-” Daesung’s voice quivered. “I’m in love.”

A wide smile split Seungri’s face, all tooth and gums. “That’s no reason to cry.”

“It’s a man. My guitarist.”

Seungri wrinkled his nose. “No, no man it’s cool. It’s not my thing but still, love is love. So what’s the problem, the rest of the band not like it?”

“I’m famous. I live in Japan. He’s a man. I’m a man. My fans are all fangirls dreaming of my falling for them and I’ve fallen for a man, a black-man. I have a career, a singing career, an acting career. He has a Christian family. I have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you’re fucked man.”

Daesung looked at him, incredulous.

“What?” Seungri said, and he poked at Daesung’s drink. Daesung gulped it down. 

“Look, I don’t know the answer but - tell me about him.”

Daesung laughed and spoke of Jason’s charm. His voice, the way his fingers flew over a guitar, the way it seemed to sing from his very soul. And it was bright, his soul. He was quiet, looking at life and thinking behind dark eyes. He would read line after line when Daesung signed on to a film project. He’d spend hours in the studio, ensuring they got just the right sound. There were nights, often on the road, where they’d sit in a bar and talk for hours, about music and life. He would listen as Daesung ranted about the constraints on his life. The could talk about anything, everything. Everything but what they both felt growing between them. 

“He sounds-,” Seungri said, “I want to feel that someday, with someone. It sounds beautiful.” The sat in silence and looked at the city. “Do you think the sun will rise soon?”

Daesung’s world spun in slow circles and he tried to answer, but who knew? Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it didn’t matter. “Woah.” He heard Seungri say and then curse. There was a clatter, the bottle falling, empty, to the floor. He should get it but he was drifting to sleep, the city blurring in and out of focus, replaced by the ceiling, then Seungri’s face. Daesung felt himself float over his body, surreally watching himself shift to sit. 

The incongruity of it made so much sense, somehow. Seungri was  _ in _ him, pushing him to standing, walking him to his bed. He lay looking up at the ceiling.

“Sleep Daedae,” Seungri said and soft fingers fluttered through his hair. “It will feel at least a little better tomorrow.”

Somehow, Daesung believed him. His sleep was deep and easy, and filled with light dreams. 

 

Daesung blinked himself awake the next morning, feeling hungover but peaceful, as if the tears from last night had leeched some of the loneliness enveloping him. He remembered Seungri, his bright eyes and teasing smile. Maybe it was the conversation, then. Whatever it was, Seungri had been right. The world felt a little better now that it was tomorrow.

He rolled over to peek at the clock on the side table.  _ 2:00pm _ . Well, this had been his original plan last night. He plucked up his phone and swiped it on. There were 5 missed messages and a half dozen missed calls. He sighed and glanced through the calls first. A couple from his mom and the rest from Mina. He scrunched up his face and reached for the hotel phone.

“Yeah, this is the penthouse -” He scrolled to his messages while the receptionist pulled up his room information on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I’ll need several bottles of water, aspirin, a big, greasy cheeseburger and a double order of cheese fries.”

He hung up the phone and braced himself for the series of messages from Mina. Generic congratulations on a successful show, boilerplate ‘ _ I miss you’s’ _ and a message that made his heart sink. “ _ Coming in to see you today! Should be there this afternoon!’ _

“Oh darn it,” he said. Scrambling to get out of bed and needing to reach out to the wall to steady himself. The room spun around him. His mouth was rank and he needed a shower. He started to shuffle towards the restroom when the door to his room beeped. He groaned. 

“Loo-ooove,” Mina’s voice was too bright and cheerful for his head. He sank back to the bed and cradled his head in his hands. “There you are, what are you doing still in bed?”

He didn’t move, just grunted. “Some party, huh.” She pulled back his drapes and moved to push him up. “Come, on, get up,” there was an edge to her voice, “I heard reporters from Dispatch were flying down to check you out so I had to come, which means you have to get up and shower and take - me- OUT.” She pushed him vertical and towards the restroom.

“Mina, I’m hung over, tired and just ordered myself lunch, dinner, food.” He had no clue what meal would be appropriate.

“Look, Dae, the rumors about us are starting to spread. They will hurt your career more than mine so please, get in the shower, get  _ dressed  _ and take me out.”

He waited until the shower was bellowing steam before stripping. “Your mother gave me a stack of movie scripts for you to look over when I stopped to get your room key,” she shouted through the door. “I’ll start looking at them and let you know which you should choose.”

There had been a time when he liked her, he reasoned with himself. A time when her greater status and expertise, her larger fame, had seemed essential to his growing career, and her perfectly manicured nails had seemed more refined evidence of elegance and less like claws caging his heart.

His phone buzzed, still in his hand. A message from Jason flashed on the screen. “ _ Hey what are you up to today?” _

He let the phone fall to the floor and stumbled into the shower.


	4. Jiyong

Something had happened to him after the day he spent 16 hours sleeping off the worst migraine he’d ever had. Apparently Seungyoon had tried to wake him but he’d thrown a few useless punches and returned to sleep. The doctor he’d been in his previous life wanted to classify his experiences since then as hallucinations, the artist in him knew better. 

The couple was interesting but intense. Youngbae, he’d managed to have a few snatches of conversation with the slender, beautiful man, was sweet and reserved. When he wasn’t being tackled by rambunctious, screaming toddlers, he seemed to be running every useless minor errand the ancients in his village needed.

The other one wasn’t beautiful, he was drop dead gorgeous. He wanted to steal him (he said his name was Myung Hoon but Jiyong called bullshit on that) and pin him down with a tape measure and drape him in fabric after fabric. He wanted to put him in dressy button ups tailored and fitted to perfection, swaddle him in suits of priceless material, drown him in reds and vibrant blues and purples, wanted his hair pink, and green and white. Oh he would look exquisite white haired. He didn’t talk much (at all) but Jiyong was fine with that. Jiyong could talk plenty.

After the first time he stumbled upon mister tall, dark and tight-lipped he’d come back and filled ream after ream with sketches, silhouettes that would hug thigh and hip in all the best ways. He wondered if he had found his muse. 

No, they could not be hallucinations, if only because he could not survive the heartbreak at learning that his muse was a fiction. That man was out there somewhere and Jiyong was going to find him, take him out of those dreadful flannels and baggy jeans and treat that figure the way it deserved.

Jiyong readily admitted his tendency towards obsession. It’s what got him through med school, what got him out and what drove him every day. 

Yes, they were real. 

Jiyong was a terrible sleeper. There were too many ideas, too much energy, too much to do. He had a million and one tips and tricks to try to get to sleep but none of them worked, until-. Until  _ they _ had come to him, or rather, he had gone to them. They pulled him from the restlessness of his own mind and into their struggles and lives and for a brief time he’d lose himself in them before returning to a body strangely pacified by the experience. It was the best sleep he’d ever had. 

The fighter, Seungri, was adorable (and one of his roommates gave his Muse a run for first place in Jiyong’s designer heart). And the singer, Daesung, had a sadness to his smile that haunted him. But it was Hyunseung that called to him the most. 

Hyunseung was pale, thin, almost gaunt. There was a distracted beauty to his face. He was always rushing somewhere. Jiyong was a trifle envious of his single-focused determination. He was looking for someone, a woman named Hyunah. At least, that was what Jiyong had gathered. Hyunseung didn’t seem to actually notice him despite the pull.

Hyunsung had confused him the first few times, before he recognized his calls. Jiyong would feel tugs, compelling him to Hyunseung. The first few times had been difficult, unlike with the others. He’d wound up flicking to Youngbae several times in succession, interrupting an appalingly intimate cuddle session between him and Seunghyun. Jiyong tried to not get too distracted by the cute and explained himself when Seunghyun’s eyes demanded he do so after the fifth failed attempt. Youngbae had reached for him and pulled him towards Hyunseung. He’d had the vague impression of Youngbae connecting two ends of frayed cord, tying them together. 

After that first time it was easier.

It was morning in Paris, he calculated, when he felt a tug from and followed the path that connected them to a dingy alleyway. Hyunseung was pacing back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. 

“Look, I don’t care what you  _ think _ they will do to you.” Hyunsung paced as he spoke. “We both know I will do worse.”

Jiyong stood in front of him and almost yelped when Hyunseung’s eyes actually focused on him and he nodded in greeting. It was the first acknowledgement he’d ever had. 

“Alright, alright, see what you can find, man.” Hyunseung gestured to Jiyong as if asking him to wait. There was no way Jiyong was leaving.

“Hey,” Hyunseung said, addressing him and stowing his phone in his back pocket. “I’ve seen you around, man. Who are you?”

“Um-”

Hyunseung’s face clouded in puzzlement and he dragged a hand through dirty blond hair. “I feel like I know you, like I should know you, but I can’t think of your name.”

“Jiyong, Jiyong Kwon.”

“You’re like the other’s, aren’t you?”

“Others?” Jiyong asked.

“The shy guy and the fighter, I think I’ve seen a few others around.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you real?”

Jiyong snorted. “Yes, are you?”

Hyunseung pulled a face. “The fuck? Yeah I’m fuckin real.” Hi tipped back his head in affronted arrogance.

Jiyong laughed. 

“Psycho,” Hyunseung said, but he smiled. “Come, lets get some Chocolate bread and coffee, I’m hungry.”

Hyunseung led him out of the alley and down a few narrow blocks to a corner cafe. Always when Jiyong visited Hyunseung there seemed something strange about the city. He couldn’t place it, but, it was different than the rest. Somehow they seemed to move too-quickly through the Paris streets. 

He blinked as they arrived at a cafe, Hyunseung gesturing to him as they sat at a small table. A bland looking woman came and took their order and disappeared, to emerge almost too quickly with a plate of warm pastries and black coffee. 

“I’m Hyunseung,” he said, taking a gulp of coffee. 

“I know.” Jiyong brought his cup to his lips and drank but the taste was mild, a shadow of coffee. He grimaced and put the cup down. “Who is Hyunah?”

“Hyuna is my sister. My twin. My other half.” Hyunseung’s eyes gazed blankly. “There was a heist a few weeks gone, it went south. I thought she was in the car with me and I turned and looked and she was gone.” He turned the cup in his hands. “She was gone,” he repeated in a whisper, “and I haven’t seen her since.

“I thought it was Pierre that took her, that fucker has been gunning for us for months, but if the asshole can’t defend his own turf then it wasn’t our fucking fault. Fuck,” he took a drag off his cigarette.

“I know the cops don’t have her. I have a friend on the inside there. He could pull up the records and-” he blew a cloud of smoke, “nothing.”

“So what then?” Jiyong asked.

“I don’t know. I called Luc to do some sniffing around. There are possibilities -” Hyunseung broke off, head cocked and eyes squinting as if listening for something just out of his range of hearing. “Look, it’s cool talking but I gotta run.” 

Before Jiyong could say anything, Hyunseung was gone and the world around him twisted.  In an instant daylight was replaced by darkness and he was looking up at the little plastic stars glowing faintly on his ceiling back in LA. He smiled up at them and mentally flipped off his dad who had told his 6 year old self he was too old for such useless frivolity before rolling over to sleep. 

 

The next morning he rolled out of bed and into skinny jeans and a ripped T, finger combing his hair while shaking his head. He spared a glance, moment, five minutes preening in the mirror by his front door before deciding he did actually  _ need _ eyeliner and dropping his satchel and walking to the restroom to do himself right. Seungyoon wouldn’t mind if he was just a little late. 

“You know,” Seungyoon snarked as Jiyong entered the atelier, “it’s a good thing you’re the boss, boss, since you can’t fire yourself for being-” he looked at his watch, “an hour late.”

“Shut it,” Jiyong said. He walked to the dress-form with his current theme piece. It was an evening gown, the one he’d told Seungyoon weeks ago he’d take on for his own. Green, structured fabric pleated the bodice before relaxing to flow over hip and thigh. The true beauty of the piece was the beadwork, hand stitched with painstaking care. Jiyong was quite in love with it, as he should be. So much hinged on it. 

“Jinwoo is coming in later to go over updates to the website for the spring line.” Seungyoon said almost nonchalantly, but Jiyong recognized the measured control in his voice. Jiyong arched an eyebrow at Seungyoon and puckered his lips to make a kissy face.

“Shut it,” Seungyoon dead panned. Jiyong laughed. 

“One of these days you’re actually going to make a move on your precious Jinwoobie and then I’m going to have no more fun in my life, so let me enjoy it while I can.”

“Whatever, do you want to see what I got done last night?”

Jiyong left his masterpiece and joined Seungyoon in analyzing the rows of dress-forms showing the last week’s worth of work.

“You know, we aren’t in too bad of shape. I think we could look at scheduling photography in mid September-” 

The bell of the front door rang and both men turned, expecting to see Jinwoo.

“Kiko! Beautiful, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Jiyong crossed to the woman and embraced her, planting kisses on each cheek.

“I came in a bit early and wanted to see it,” Kiko said.

“Want to try it on?” Jiyong asked.

Kiko’s eyes lit up seeing her dress in a solid piece and squealed her yes. She began immediately to strip, letting shorts and bags fall to the ground before turning to the buttons of her blouse.

“Just like a model,” Seungyoon clucked and returned to his work. Jiyong helped her slip into the dress without getting stuck by too many phantom pins. Once it settled on her she gave a graceful twirl. 

“It feels fantastic.”

Jiyong glared at the dress. “Stop moving.” He swatted at her and knelt on his knees at her side. The fabric was not falling right. Kiko was a professional. She froze and breathed in slow breaths as Jiyong worked, pinning fabric until it draped just right.

“You really are a genius, Jiyong,” she said as she stepped back into her clothes. “I want to wear nothing but what you make. I want everyone to acknowledge your talent.”

“Well,” Jiyong had the grace to blush, “we’ll see how the reaction goes at the premier and who knows?” 

It would be satisfying, so satisfying, to come out on top. He thought of his parents, their last fight, their predictions of failure and ruin. He had talent, and passion and skill. The next time he saw them it would be to accept their acknowledgement. 

Once Kiko was dressed he pulled her into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair and gratitude overwhelmed him. “Thank you for believing in me, for supporting me, and-” he paused, “for not judging me after- everything.”

“Love,” she said, breath tickling his ear, “you make a much better friend than boyfriend.” She planted a kiss on his forehead. “I can’t wait to see it done.”

“Ya, guys,” Seungyoon yelled from across the room, “it’s too early for you to be so hetero.”

Kiko laughed. “It’s nearly noon,” she said at the same time as Jiyong said, “I’m not fucking hetero.”

He tossed a pincushion at Seungyoon who dodged and rolled his eyes. “A _ sexual _ , then, whatever, knock it off with the feels before lunch time.”

The front door chimed again and Seungyoon’s face turned a lovely shade of probably constipated.  _ So much for no feels _ , Jiyong snarked to himself.

“Hey, guys,” Jinwoo said, dropping his laptop bag onto the first available work table.

Kiko bowed and headed out as Jinwoo began setting up the laptop. “So,” he nodded as Kiko left, “I’ve mocked up several designs for the website. I know we talked last week but I wanted,” he stumbled trying to get up on a stool and managed to knock it to the ground with a loud clatter.  “Um,” he said, embarrassed flush spreading on his cheeks.

Jiyong kicked at Seungyoon’s foot. “You ok?” Seungyoon asked, rushing to pick up the stool. Their hands brushed and Jiyong tried not to giggle as the two boys crouched over a forgotten stool, eyes locked for a moment. He coughed. They started and Jiyong bent to lift the stool.

“Yes, Jinwoo, the website,” Jiyong said.

Jinwoo shook his head, stray strands of hair flying as he smoothed the ridiculous grin off his face. His web-browser booted up to some random Korean news site and Jiyong started. “No,” he snapped, hand moving to keep Jinwoo from moving the mouse.

“Who’s that?” he asked, a bit of hysteria creeping into his voice. He struggled to recall the Korean language lessons of his youth well enough to read the screen. 

“Um, Kang Daesung,” Jinwoo said. “He’s a Japanese singer. Well Korean, Japanese, Korean.” 

Jiyong looked at him like he was cracked. “Well his family is Korean but he was born in Japan. He’s pretty famous. He’s dating Choi Mina, the Korean actress.”

“That’s one of them, Yoon,” Jiyong said. 

“One of your hallucinations?” 

“They aren’t hallucinations! I’ve been trying to tell you. Look,” he pointed at Jinwoo’s screen with one hand, the other clamping down on Jinwoo’s shoulder for emphasis, “ _ he _ is real. He’s a real person.”

“So you’re hallucinating about a Japanese-Korean Celebrity-” Seungyoon didn’t look convinced.

“No, I’m halluci- MEETING a guy like telepathically, or, something and he  _ happens _ to be a Korean Celebrity.”

“Japanese,” Jinwoo said, almost a question then blinked and shook his head. Jinwoo looked up at Jiyong with wide eyes. “I’m confused.”

“You’re always confused,” Jiyong said affectionately, ruffling his hair. “This proves it, Yoonie, it  _ proves _ it.”

Seungyoon looked at Jiyong, unimpressed.

“Damn it,” Jiyong said, and he wrenched himself off to Tokyo. 

Daesung was drowsing, eyes barely open. Of course he was in bed. It was the middle of the night in Japan. The room was different though. This wasn’t the Tokyo hotel or his fancy flat. “Hey, hey, Daesung,” Jiyong shook him. “Daesung wake up.”

He jumped up onto the bed, straddling Daesung with his knees. “Wake uuuh-up,” Jiyong whined.

Daesung groaned and cracked an eye. “Ji-yong?” Daesung asked.

“Hey,” Jiyong gave a million-watt smile, “how are things?”

Daesung shrugged him off and sat up, looking at him in the dim light of the restroom falling into the bedroom. “What?”

Jiyong leaned to sit beside Daesung, cross-legged on the bed. “Are you a celebrity, Daesung?”

“Um, yeah?” Daesung yawned. “Yeah I’m a singer.”

“Like famous?”

Daesung nodded and collapsed on his side over the pillows. “Yeah, famous.”

“And you’re real?”

Daesung looked at him and deadpanned, “are you real?”

“No, come on, this is weird, you know?” Jiyong protested. He looked around the room. “Prove it,” Jiyong said, reaching for the phone on Daesung’s nightstand. “Here.” 

Daesung grabbed for his phone. “What do you need my phone for?”

“Tweet something,” Jiyong said.

“I don’t have twitter.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I have Instagram?” Daesung said. He fell back into a heap. 

“Ok.” Jiyong turned back to Jinwoo and Seungyoon. 

“Jiyong, what’s wrong with you?” Seungyoon was standing in front of him and yelling. He was sitting on the couch of his office, Jinwoo holding his hands and looking disturbed.

“Yoon, I’m gonna make him make a post.”

“Did you go see him?” Seungyoon asked and Jiyong nodded.

Jinwoo tugged at Jiyong’s hands. “Seungyoon tried to explain it while you were dazed out. You - see - people?”

“Yeah, gimmie your phone Woo-ya,” Jiyong said. Jinwoo pulled it from his pocket and Jiyong snatched at it. “I can’t believe you don’t password protect your phone,” he muttered as he opened up Instagram to find Daesung.

Seungyoon crouched down by them. “What’s his name?” 

Jiyong turned to Daesung, still snuggled in the bed. “What’s your instagram name?”

“Underscore Dae l-i-t-e under-” he yawned, “score.”

Jiyong turned to Jinwoo’s phone and typed into the search  _ ‘_DaeLite_’. “ _ There,” he said, waving the phone, “that’s him, see. It’s official, it has the checkmark.”

“Ji-” Seungyoon said. 

“Just  _ watch _ , Yoonie, please,” Jiyong pleaded, he paused before jumping back to Daesung to place the phone in Seungyoon’s hand. “Please just watch. I’m going to tell him to post something about - feet- ok? Just watch.”

He turned to Daesung. “Take a photo of your feet,” he commanded.

Daesung’s eyes bulged. “My feet?”

“Yeah, your feet.”

Daesung kicked at the sheets and swung a socked foot around to poke out of his comforter. “Take a - picture - of my feet.” He rolled his eyes. His phone camera clicked and he began poking at his phone to upload it. 

“Write in the caption,” Jiyong said, moving to look over his shoulder, “write ‘I wish I had a Dragon to come warm my toes.’”

Daesung dropped the phone to glare at him. “I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Write it, write it, writeit.”

“In English?”

“Of course in English, what language are we  _ speaking _ ?” Jiyong said sarcastically.

“Um, Japanese,” Daesung muttered.

“What?!”

“I’m speaking Japanese.”

“I don’t  _ know _ Japanese!!”

Daesung shrugged and pulled the sheets over his head. “I sent it, let me sleep I played a concert tonight. I’m tired.”

“Kay,” Jiyong said, reaching for Daesung’s phone. He plucked at it before it could lock, looking through the contacts. They were all in Japanese but he managed to find the name he wanted in English,  _ Jason _ , he tapped it. He sent it a little smile emoji and a bunch of ‘z’s’ before typing out ‘ _ good night.’ _

He turned back to Seungyoon and Jinwoo feeling quite satisfied with himself. Seungyoon was looking at him wide eyed and turned the phone so Jiyong and Jinwoo could see.

Under Daesung’s name and profile picture was a picture of a foot with the caption “I wish I had a Dragon’s nose.”

“You -”

“I said a ‘Dragon to warm my  _ toes, _ ” Jiyong cried, taking the phone from Seungyoon.

“Wait, does this mean that Jiyong-ah is communicating with Kang Daesung?” Jinwoo asked.

 

Jiyong figured he needed a drink that evening when he got home. Seungyoon and Jinwoo had pestered him for hours to talk about Daesung and the others. There was work to do, but the reality of what was going on was overwhelming. He figured he would scrap the day and go curl up with some Netflix. 

He’d just finished a shower when the sound of skin impacting skin tugged at him. He cursed his curiosity and spun, settling in a dark theater - no, it wasn’t a theater. There was a fighting ring in its center.  Seungri was in the ring getting absolutely pummeled by a large dark skinned fighter. Jiyong wrinkled his nose. Yeah, that boy was going to need some stitches. 

He swore that Seungri was going to to lose but was completely surprised to see him flip the taller man and pin him, winning. 

He waited at the fringes of Seungri’s vision. He couldn’t really go far, apparently. The fight wrapped and he walked with Seungri to the locker room to collect his gear, then stopping to browse the trophy cases lining the main office while the winnings were dished out. 

“You took some hits,” Jiyong said, finally speaking as Seungri left through the back door of the venue. He fell into step beside Seungri and they made their way through a narrow alley.

“Heh,” Seungri’s laugh was self-deprecating, “yeah, gave some too, though.”

“You’re gonna need some stitches for that lip.” Jiyong flicked at his face and Seungri flinched. “Do you have a first aid kit at home?”

“Uh, I think Joong-ie has some band-aids,” Seungri said.

“Pharmacy,” Jiyong said. He followed Seungri a few blocks to a 24-hour pharmacy and pointed out everything he’d need. 

 

“Everyone’s out tonight, date night,” Seungri said, as he let them into the flat. “So no cuties to objectify when they can’t hear,” he teased. Jiyong liked to make a game of outrageous compliments chased by inappropriate leering to see if he could get Seungri to crack. So far he’d won every time. His roommates must think him insane. Jiyong couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry.

“My statements on the charms of your roommates are not objectification, they’re fact.” Jiyong justified.

“Sure,” Seungri said, setting out their haul from the pharmacy on the small counter of the bathroom.

“Here,” Jiyong said and waved for Seungri to sit in front of him on the tub. Turning his back to the restroom mirror, Jiyong set to evaluating Seungri’s injuries.

Seungri sat and let Jiyong work. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warned.

“I’m tough,” Seungri assured, puffing out his chest. Jiyong rolled his eyes.

“So,” Seungri asked as Jiyong began prepping. “You’re a little flamboyant for a doctor. They let you get away with that in the states?”

“Stop talking,” Jiyong said. He concentrated on Seungri’s lips and slowly began to stitch.

“I’m not a doctor,” Jiyong said, distractedly, speaking to help him focus on his work. “I was a doctor. Almost was a doctor,” he amended. “American dream, my parents. They moved to America from Seoul when I was a kid. They wanted me to make something of myself. They were a walking stereotype,” Jiyong rolled his eyes, “school and studying and school and piano lessons except when it was violin lessons. I was going to be their little prodigy.

“And I went with it, too. I hated it but I went with it. Graduated high school at 15.” Seungri tried to whistle and Jiyong slapped him. “Started school right after, 4 years of undergrad, dual major in Biology and Chemistry, 4 years of pre-med and no fucking life. I was 23 going on 75. But my parents,” he snorted, “they were so proud. Bigshot doctor in the family.

“Kept going too. Did a year of residency even though I felt like my mind was slipping from under me.  I started cracking, cuz I’m human, you know?” He met Seungri’s eyes and felt a wave of sympathy roll off him. Jiyong felt comforted by Seungri’s care.

“Anyways, shit went down,” he said, not wanting to explain exactly what  _ kind _ of shit had gone down, “I told my parents where they could shove their expectations, I quit and started doing what I wanted to do.” He cut the thread of the stitches and sat back to admire his work. “I’da been a good doctor, though.”

Seungri rubbed at his jaw. “So what do you do?” He asked.

“Apparently all I do is zip around the world talking to you people,” he said but he softened his words with an affectionate pat of Seungri’s head. “I’m going to bed.”

He was about to go back to his apartment when he stopped and turned back. “Wait, what language are we speaking?”

“Uh, Spanish?” 

Jiyong screwed up his face and squirmed on his sofa. “I can’t speak Spanish,” he groused to himself. 


	5. Seungri

The sunlight was shining right into his eyes. Seungri groaned and turned to face the back of his couch. One day he really was going to get a bed, he promised himself, ignoring the fact that they’d need to get a bigger place first, and the money for that bigger place. None of that mattered when the spring attacking his hip was being particularly vicious.

He heard the door to Junsu and Jaejoong’s room open and close. He rolled over, recognizing the shuffle of feet and, sure enough, Jaejoong was crawling up his body to snuggle into him. “I’ve never met someone who liked cuddling so much as you, Jae,” Seungri mumbled then puffed at the blond strands tickling his nose.

“Shut up and sleep,” Jaejoong grumbled into his shoulder. Seungri snaked an arm around Jaejoong as he settled in, pressing his face into the body above him to block the light. 

They awoke several hours later to Junsu banging around in the kitchen. He nudged Jaejoong, still snoring on top of him. “Joongito, your cousin thinks he can make breakfast.”

“Like hell,” Jaejoong mumbled, rolling off the couch to put a stop to Junsu’s delusions of grandeur. Seungri grabbed at his blanket and flipped it up over his face, only to have it rudely yanked off before Jaejoong disappeared into the kitchen

“Joongie!” he whined. 

“You can’t sleep the whole day,” Jaejoong shouted back at him. “Yes, even on your day off, it isn’t healthy.” There was a clatter of metal and a scuffle. 

Seungri pouted and rolled over, burying himself into the back of the couch and flinching back, the bruising of his face protesting. 

“Did you win?” Junsu asked, crossing to the living room in a strategic retreat from his pot wielding cousin. 

Seungri grunted a yes.

“Well at least you have that. You look like shit, Ri.”

“Thanks,” Seungri said, conceding defeat and sitting up. Junsu sat next to him, towel wrapped around his shoulders and one hand combing through dripping hair. 

“You do what you want, Ri,” Junsu said, “but we have a huge backlog of paperwork, and it would be  _ nice _ if we didn’t.”

Seungri looked at his partner, incredulous. “You’re going to make me work on my  _ day off? _ ”

“I’m just saying.” 

Seungri groaned. He was going to wind up at the office one way or another, he just knew it. “Buy my coffee, and I’ll go.”

“Kay,” Junsu agreed, getting up and disappearing into his room. 

He yawned his way into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of Jaejoong’s sauteed potatoes and the fact that, really, there was no place  _ else _ to go in the tiny apartment. Seungri flopped onto a rickety chair at the bistro table they’d fished out of a dumpster years ago. 

“Oh, Ri,” Jaejoong said over his shoulder, “I picked up some extra classes. I put the money in the jar.”

“Oh,” Seungri said, remembering last night’s winnings. He ruffled through the jacket he’d draped over the chair last night and brought forth a wad of money. “We still owe Mr. Vargas from last month,” he said, counting out some of his winnings and setting it aside for Junsu to take to the plumber. He stood to stash the rest of the money in the large jar they kept at the back of the cabinet by the fridge. It was nearly empty, he noted. He ran his finger over the mark just past halfway. The furthest they’d ever managed to get the jar. It seemed like they’d been saving for a better place, one with enough space for each of them to have a room, for an eternity.

He returned to the table to wait, watching Jaejoong flip the tortillas. He was lucky to have found them when he did, all those years ago. It had been the youngest cousin he’d met first, Changmin. They’d been in high school together and bonded instantly as the only Koreans (well, Mexican-Korean in the case of the cousins) in 50 square miles, at least. Their whole clan had taken to him instantly, and when he finally had had enough of moving all around the world, the two eldest cousins had offered him a couch. 

Real estate was expensive in the capital. Even on the salary of a couple cops, and whatever it was Jaejoong was doing these days apart from occasional voice lessons. And their apartment seemed to always need one repair or another, or there was a trip to the hospital or - one way or another their savings jar seemed more empty than not. 

“Let’s catch the new Lito movie,” Junsu suggested, returning dressed and properly coiffed to claim the other backed chair. 

“Weren’t you just bitching about paperwork?” Jaejoong snarked.

“Yeah but-” Junsu started. 

“And is it even out yet?” Jaejoong continued, cutting him off.  He flicked the stove off and turned to see both Junsu and Seungri sitting in the chairs. “Aiya! I did not cook breakfast to sit on the stool!” He sat the plates on the table and swatted the back of Seungri’s head.”

“Why do I have to move!” Seungri yelped but he knew it was a losing battle. Rubbing his newest injury, he slid off the chair to take the stool. Appeased, Jaejoong sat in the chair and helped himself to potato and eggs which he rolled into a tortilla. Junsu and Seungri picked at yesterday’s sweet bread, letting the cook take first dibs.

“The Lito movie came out last night,” Seungri said around a mouthful of empanada.

“And you haven’t seen it?” Jaejoong asked, scandalized hand clutching at his chest. 

“Hey, I had that fight last night!” Seungri said. “I won,” he added proudly.

“Yeah, we can tell by looking at your face,” Jaejoong teased. 

“Man, fuck off,” Seungri said, throwing a pinch of bread. He laughed harder. 

“You do kinda look terrible, Ri,” Junsu said

“Guys _ , _ I’m doing well, I’m winning, that’s all that matters,” Seungri said. “Just a few more wins, and maybe we can get out of here.”

Abashed, the cousins turned to their food, trying to eat around each other’s elbows. Junsu and Seungri moved to clean up once the stack was gone, Jaejoong disappearing to dress. 

“You ok, man?” Junsu asked, as they stood side by side at the sink.

“Yeah,” Seungri shrugged, “I’ve been taking Jiujitsu and Muay Thai for years, figured I might as well put it to use to help us get out of here.”

“No, I mean,” Junsu broke off and focused on drying a pan. “You’ve been - distracted - lately. Is there anything-” He broke off, unsure what he was trying to say.

“There,” Seungri paused, “yeah but I don’t know how to explain it.” Junsu and Seungri had always been close, despite the gap in their ages, closer than the rest of the family. It had been Junsu who encouraged him to stand up to his father, Junsu who had first offered him a home, Junsu who had been the only one not to tease him when Seungri said he wanted to be a cop, too. It had been hero-worship of the kid he saw as more an older brother than a friend, but Junsu had never put him down for it. He’d simply put an arm around Seungri and told him he’d make a wonderful cop. He owed Junsu truth for all his support, but Seungri wasn’t sure how to explain it without sounding mad.

“I’m ok,  _ hyung _ ,” he said, using the token Korean word as a reassurance of his respect and appreciation, “I just-” How exactly  _ did _ one go about explaining hallucinations that were actually real people? 

Junsu knocked their shoulders together. “It’s ok, Ri,” he said, “just let me know if there is any trouble.”

They washed a couple more cups before Junsu’s teasing emerged. “You sure it isn’t a girl?”

“Pshhhh, whatever, I wish,” Seungri said, rolling his eyes, “then I could move out of here and shack up with her.”

Junsu sighed. “I’m sorry, Ri, that it has taken this long. I never thought it would.”

“It’s ok, Junsu, we’ll get there one day. You never know, I could become a world famous fighter and buy us all mansions, your moms included.”

Junsu laughed.

 

They’d decided on movie before work, so Junsu got to walk to the Police Station with an over-excited Seungri who just  _ had _ to recount every moment of the film

“You do realize,” Junsu said as he opened the door to their coffee shop, “that I  _ literally _ just watched this with you?”

“Yeah, but, the scene, in the church, Junsu, Lito’s  _ face _ , did you see his face? He knew, right then-”

Seungri rattled on as they stood in line, gushed over the action sequence in the church and praised his favorite actor’s brooding presence while they waited for their order. 

“Daniella, Seungri,” the barista shouted, and Seungri moved forward to pick up his order. He reached for his cup as the same time as the woman beside him, and their hands collided, knocking over both coffees in the process. 

“Oh- oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for napkins to begin mopping up the steaming pools on the counter. 

“Oh my God,” Seungri said, seeing her. He stood frozen, mouth gaping, vaguely aware of the barista apologizing and promising replacements but he couldn’t stop staring. The woman blushed and apologized to the barista. She pushed the large sunglasses up her nose and dipped the large hat over her face before apologizing again to Seungri.

“Hey,” Junsu whispered, moving up to Seungri’s side as the woman moved away to await her replacement order. “Hey!” Junsu said again, grabbing at Seungri’s hand, still hovering over the counter. “What’s wrong with you?”

Seungri shook his head, eyes refocusing. “Junsu,” he hissed, “Junsu, did you see who that  _ was _ ?!”

Junsu looked over Seungri’s shoulder at the woman standing just beyond them. “Um.”

“It’s Daniela Velazquez,” Seungri hissed.

Junsu pulled a face. “Yeah, right.”

“No it issss,” Seungri insisted. “I got a look at her face.”

“She’s dating Lito Rodriguez,” Seungri said, awed.

“I thought he was gay,” Junsu said, walking off to pick up his order. 

“He  _ isn’t  _ gay,” Seungri whispered furiously when Junsu returned. 

“He  _ could _ be.”

“He isn’t. He’s dating Daniela Velazquez.”

“Who is getting coffee at our coffee shop,” Junsu deadpanned.

“Yes!” The word came out louder than Seungri had anticipated. He ducked his head and looked around. The coffee shop ignored him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Daniela. She was absorbed with her phone. 

He jumped as their names were called again. He blushed and stood aside, gesturing for her to pick up her order first. She spared him a glance and a fraction of a smile and his heart fluttered. She was pretty. Of course she was pretty, she was an actress, but she was  _ pretty _ . He almost knocked over his drink as he moved to picked it up after her. 

Junsu was leering at him when Seungri rejoined him. Seungri flipped him off and began walking for the door. They turned to head towards the station and Seungri smacked Junsu’s shoulder repeatedly. “Daniela, Daniela, Daniela,” he whispered in a rush.

Ahead of them, a few paces, walked Daniela. “You should go talk to her,” Junsu said, smiling into his coffee. 

“Shut up, man,” Seungri said. Junsu knocked into Seungri every few steps, jutting his chin towards Daniela. 

They walked several blocks before Seungri stumbled. “Hey,” he yelped at the kid who shouldered past him, “watch i-”

The kid grabbed at Daniela, grabbing her purse and twisting it away before darting off into the crowd. Instinctively Seungri began to run, coffee flying as he chased after the thief. “Hey! Stop, police!” He shouted, adrenaline rushing into him. The kid looked back at him, face half covered with a bandana, then turned forward and sprinted. 

Seungri chased him two blocks before the kid turned sharply and jumped onto a scooter, firing it up and moving towards the street. 

“Shit,” Seungri cursed, running to a car idling on the street. “Police,” he yelled again, grabbing for his wallet with one hand and opening the door with another, “I need this car ma’am.” He grabbed the lady’s shoulder and pulled her out of the car as she yelped at him. “Thank you, police business,” he said, flashing the credit card in his wallet at her and closing the door.

“Shit,” he cursed again, looking down at the console. It was manual. Seungri couldn’t drive manual. Panic laced the adrenaline fluttering in his skin. In the distance he could still see the scooter. Getting away. 

“Move over,” a voice said, and suddenly he was sitting in the passenger seat, watching as the man now in the driver’s seat floored it. He was petite, almost delicate under a shock of black hair. Seungri puzzled over the nasal intonation to his words and recognition dawned.

“You-” Seungri said, pointing. It was the French hallucination, person, whatever. 

“Hyunseung,” the man said, smiling. “We goin after the scooter?” He shifted the car smoothly, eyes sparkling. 

“Yeah, he’s a thief,” Seungri said.

“You a cop?” Hyunseung arched a brow and Seungri nodded. Hyunseung chuckled. “Ironic.” He sped to catch up, weaving in and out of traffic in the woman’s car, honking wildly. Seungri grabbed his cell phone and speed dialed the dispatcher to call for backup.

The kid tried, really he did, but Hyunseung could drive. He made an attempt to dart down an alley, only to be trapped between Hyunseung and a delivery truck. Seungri and Hyunseung shared a glance and a smile and Hyunseung disappeared with a, “thanks for that,” leaving Seungri looking at the kid over the steering wheel.

He exited the car and shouted for the boy to drop the purse and get down. He pinned the kid with arms behind his back and settled in to wait for his backup. 

“Really, Seungri,” the cop said when he drove up, “a little much for a purse snatcher.” 

“Just take him in, Ernesto,” Seungri said. “I’m going to return the purse and will meet you there.”

Ernesto rolled his eyes and cuffed the kid. Seungri called Junsu to figure out where they were and began driving back to where he’d left the owner of the car he’d nabbed. He politely listened and apologized as she gave him an earful, anxious to get back to Junsu who was calming Daniela at a cafe. 

She looked up at him when he returned, her purse in his outstretched hand. “Oh, thank you so, so, _so_  much,” she cried, taking it from him and opening it to check its contents. 

“Is everything there?” Seungri asked, scratching the back of his head. 

“Oh,” she cooed, “I can’t believe you ran after that thief like you did.” 

Seungri was painfully aware of her hand on his bicep. He flexed, unconsciously, and blushed. “It’s the training, ma’am.”

“Did he -” her hand fluttered over his chin. 

Seungri brought a hand up to his face and winced as the bruise on his jaw stung. “Oh, no, ma’am,” he said, “I already had this.”

“Still,” she pouted, “you were amazing. You  _ have _ to let me make it up to you.”

Seungri’s stomach flipped. “No, no please,” he protested. “It was my job.”

“No, Seungri,” Junsu said, joining them, “you should let her make it up to you.”

Seungri glared at Junsu over Daniela’s shoulder. 

“Oh yes, please, I insist,” she said. 

Seungri felt the weight of her large eyes turned on him and his cheeks felt hot. He gulped. She really was incredibly pretty.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” she smiled, “you want to, please.” Her eyes  _ batted _ at him. He was done. He nodded and she  _ squealed _ . The adorableness of it crushed his heart. 

She plucked his phone from his back pocket and began punching in a number. “Here,” she dialed and her own phone rang, “I gotta run but you call me, no, I will call you, ok?” She placed his phone back in his hands, settled her hands on his forearms and tippy-toed up to peck him on each cheek before running out of the cafe, purse in hand. 

Seungri stood, shell shocked as Junsu doubled over beside him, laughing.

“Knock it off,” Seungri muttered.

“Oh, big, strong Seungri,” Junsu batted his eyelashes up at Seungri. Seungri kicked him and walked away. “No, Ri,” Junsu whined after him, “don’t leaaave me here.” Seungri’s ears burned as he left the cafe. Daniela had been  _ flirting _ with him. Daniela Velazquez, Lito Rodriguez’s maybe girlfriend had  _ flirted  _ with him. 

He smiled like an idiot the rest of the day and took pains to ignore his partner’s wheedling. 

 

He stared at his phone like it was poisonous as it rattled on the counter. His stomach did a summersault and he turned back to the stove to push aimlessly at the sauteed potatoes. 

“Um,” Jaejoong said, hooking his chin over Seungri’s shoulder, “you making mashed potatoes?”

“Huh?” Seungri said, whipping the wooden spoon around. 

“Hey, Ri,” Jaejoong shouted.

Junsu walked into the kitchen and followed Seungri’s gaze to the phone laying, dark, on the counter. He grinned. “It’s been a couple days, did she call?”

Seungri looked up wildly and flushed before returning to the potatoes. “No,” he said, the tips of his ears burning hot.

“Who?” Jaejoong asked. “Is a  _ girl _ calling Seungri?” He asked, picking up on the too-stiff set of Seungri’s shoulders and his resumption of turning potato-and-eggs into  _ mashed _ potato-and-eggs.

His screen flashed with a series of texts. 

“So,” Junsu turned a toothy grin towards Seungri, “you gonna take her out - or - better- let her take  _ you _ out?”

“Ooohhh,” Jaejoong latched onto Junsu, “you have to tell me.” He glanced at Seungri and plucked the spoon from his hand. “Stop it, you’re ruining it.” He pushed Seungri away from the stove with his hip and Junsu plopped Seungri’s phone into his vacated hands. 

Hands on his back pushed him towards the living room.

He stared at his phone, overwhelmed by the fact that Daniela was calling him. 

“So you going to call her back?” He looked up to see Daesung looking at him. 

He gulped and looked around the room; he was alone. “You know, I’m an actor, I could-”

Seungri hopped out of his body, practically dragging Daesung in. He stood aside and watched Daesung take over.  _ You really like her, huh? _

“It’s Daniella  _ Velasquez _ ,” Seungri said, “she’s  _ famous _ , and  _ gorgeous _ , and dating  _ Lito Rodriguez _ .”

_ Wait if she’s dating how is she calling you? _

“I kind of saved her purse from a thief.”

_ And now she’s calling you? _

Seungri shrugged. “She wanted to thank me.”

_ So, she’s taken, and she’s taking you to dinner.  _ Daesung paused.  _ You DO like her. _

“I don’t have a chance, not against Lito.”

Daesung smirked.  _ We’ll see about that. _ He dialed the phone. “Hi, Daniela, it’s Seungri. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to your call. I was making dinner.” He paused to listen to Daniela. 

“Of course, I was doing my job, it’s only luck that doing so let me help a woman as lovely as yourself.” A wide smile spread across Daesung’s face and Seungri’s heart fluttered. Daesung was good. 

“I would love to get together. At the cafe, yes, the one by the coffee shop? Sure I can be there at 6. You take care, and hold on to that purse!” He laughed, pleasure reaching his eyes, and hung up the phone. 

_ She sounds cute, _ Daesung said without words. Seungri blushed. 

“I’m terrible at talking to girls. Well not really. I can talk to girls, just not girls I like.”

_ Ha! Me too - well - not  _ girls. Seungri nodded. 

“Well, if you ever need help - I don’t like guys but - what’s the difference if I just gotta get you  _ to _ the bed.” 

Daesung blushed and slid out of his body, allowing Seungri back in. “Good luck tomorrow,” Daesung said before vanishing. 


	6. Youngbae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It begins to be rated from here on. TW: violence, on screen torture and minor character death.

It had been a month. A month of sharing each other’s space, of being in one another’s minds, souls. They’d touched, kissed, held one another. Seunghyun, Myunghoon, Youngbae didn’t really care which was his name, was a creature of physicality. He had an almost preternatural awareness, control, of his body, reminding Youngbae of documentaries on panthers he’d seen as a child in school. But Seunghyun could go days without talking. Which was fine, because apparently Youngbae was incapable of shutting up when Seunghyun was around.

Youngbae had never loved a man before. He didn’t know he was capable of it. Well, in a way he still didn’t know. For all that he’d been in Seunghyun’s body, felt the  presence of Seunghyun’s mind occasionally brushing against his own, and been seared by the press of his lips, that was as far as they’d gotten. The casted leg provided a convenient excuse, but it was just an excuse. The thought of  _ being _ with Seunghyun both excited and terrified him.

After the first few days, Seunghyun disappeared every afternoon. The first few times Youngbae had worried he’d never return. He knew how to find Seunghyun through the bond. He sensed no matter how far away he’d always find Seunghyun. He also knew he wouldn’t try if Seunghyun did leave. Seunghyun always returned.

There was something skittish to the patterns of Seunghyun’s mind. It reminded him of a wounded animal. The intensity, the intimacy of this  _ thing _ that had bound them disturbed him. Youngbae consoled himself, however, with the knowledge that his terror in submitting his body to Seunghyun was matched in Seunghyun’s white knuckled grip on the windows shuttering his soul. And yet their desire pushed them towards each other. 

As the afternoon stretched long, Seunghyun hobbled into the little reappropriated school room in the center of the village Youngbae used for his daycare. This had been his first early morning disappearance. 

The three toddlers Youngbae chased during the day all squealed and ran to Myunghoon-Uncle, falling over themselves to wrap around his good leg. 

Little Kyung stepped on Taeil to cling to Seunghyun’s thigh, screaming “up, up, up,” at the top of his lungs. Taeil whined and squealed underneath Kyung’s feet and Youngbae rushed to them. He plucked Kyung off Taeil and smiled an apology at Seunghyun. 

“You’re here,” he whispered. Seunghyun twitched the corner of his mouth up and he felt a brief touch on his mind, tinged with pleasure. He let his own pleasure resonate with Seunghyun’s for a moment and their breathing synced. 

“Come on, Kyungie, leave Myunghoon-uncle alone and go get the puzzles.” Youngbae set Kyung back down and knelt to check that Taeil was ok.

Seunghyun had given no explanation. He never did the few times he disappeared after that, either. Youngbae didn’t press. He was just pleased Seunghyun returned at all. He’d felt some nervousness the morning his Gran had come home from her business out of town, but she’d kissed him on the cheek and smiled at Seunghyun, welcoming any friend of Youngbae’s generously into her home. She hadn’t even minded Youngbae pilfering his grandfather’s clothes for Seunghyun either, accepting the explanation that everything Seunghyun had brought had been lost in the accident that broke his leg. 

She took pleasure in Seunghyun’s company. Her eyes would light up when Seunghyun sat on the ground while she busied herself with laundry or household chores in the back yard every afternoon while Youngbae made his rounds to drop off the kids. She would hang clothes, or beat rugs, or stand in the large tub full of water and use her bare feet to clean their clothes or bedding. Seunghyun would watch her, eyes wide and open, as she regaled him with tale after tale of her youth. 

Youngbae had never heard these stories, and frequently he’d creep back as quietly as he could to listen in. She’d been rebellious, almost wild, chasing after dreamy American G.I.s or visiting secret clubs during the war. That afternoon he escorted Seunghyun home then rushed his charges home, encouraging them with short races that worked exhaustion into little legs. 

_ Their moms will be thankful, _ Youngbae told himself, making a pretense of altruism. His scheme paid off, however. He stalked through the grass of the yard to the side of the house where he’d seen his Gran setting up the laundry. He stopped just as the cadence of her voice came into range, and sat crossed-legged on the ground.

“I didn’t want to settle down, Hoon-ah,” she sighed just as Youngbae came close enough to hear. He grinned and settled into the grass at the side of the house and reclined to listen to the woman who’d raised him talk about the life she’d lived decades before he’d existed. 

He sent his mind out, moving to slide the impression of arms around Seunghyun as he sat, his foot with a cast sprawled in front of him. Seunghyun rocked back into him and Youngbae’s phantom smiled. Youngbae hooked his chin on Seunghyun’s shoulder and watched his hands. Seunghyun was carving a little piece of wood with skilled fingers. 

Youngbae dragged his fingers in small circles over Seunghyun’s forearms while they listened to Gran tell a tale of seducing a Japanese dignitary in Seoul amidst admonitions that ‘Hoon-ah’ never tell his friend. Seunghyun looked up at Gran and gave her a knowing smile, a real smile, and she laughed in return. “How your friendship even works, I’ll never know, you never say a  _ word,  _ Hoon-ah,” she clucked and stomped her laundry into submission. 

“I just don’t have much to say, Grandmother,” Seunghyun said and Youngbae startled. His voice was so rich and deep. She harrumphed and a glint appeared in her eye. 

“So you  _ can _ talk, can you?” She teased.

Seunghyun nodded. 

“So tell me, chatter-box, how did you really meet Youngbae?” He felt Seunghyun freeze in his arms, fingers stilling on the carving and going white-knuckled over the knife. “My boy has never mentioned you, not once, in the ten years since he’s returned from Seoul. Why would he keep your relationship secret? Why would he bring you here now?”

Youngbae crossed his arms around Seunghyun, pressing palms to the planes of his chest and breathing deeply. 

“Why have I not seen Hyorin in years?” Silence stretched between them as Youngbae’s grandmother stared Seunghyun down with knowing eyes, the name of Youngbae’s ex lingering in the air. 

“You know, I never was able to seduce that diplomat, the Japanese one.” Seunghyun’s head snapped up, confused at the non-sequitur and eyes wary. “He wasn’t interested in  _ women _ that way,” she confided. She let that sink in. 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Hoon-ah, and I’ve seen the way you look at him, or try not to.”

Youngbae had snapped back to his body and stood to quickly open and close the side door of the house. He strode into the yard, wide, innocent smile plastered to his lips. 

“Oh, Bae-ya, you’re here,” his grandmother said, “come help me out so I can hang this.”

“Of course, Gran.”

Seunghyun glared at him the whole time Youngbae worked to hang the laundry, and he went straight to the room they shared when Youngbae’s grandmother moved into the kitchen to begin dinner. 

“Your friend not eating?” she asked. 

“Um, no, Gran,” Youngbae said, mind stumbling. Had she had a tone when saying ‘friend’? He tried to reassure himself he was being paranoid. 

They ate in silence that was broken when Youngbae moved to begin cleaning up. “Take some food in to him,” she said, pitching her voice loud, “I like him. Don’t want him to go hungry.”

Youngbae nodded and picked up a bowl of rice and a plate of sides to take to Seunghyun. “Go on,” Gran snapped, taking his place with the dishes. Youngbae nodded again and slid open the door to their room.

Seunghyun sat in the half-darkness but Youngbae could feel him everywhere. “I’m sorry,” Youngbae said. “I don’t - I wasn’t expecting that response, but, she said she liked you, I don’t -”

They’d never, in the weeks of watching kids, and doctors visits, and awkward sponge baths, the month of desperate kisses and breathy sighs in the dark, actually talked about what it was that they were doing. 

Youngbae set the food on the floor and sat in front of Seunghyun. “She knows what we are, but what  _ are _ we?”

“I don’t know,” came the voice in the dark. Youngbae’s heart ached at its sound. 

“I’ve never been with a man, I’ve barely been with a woman. But you’re in me, under my skin, not like the others.” Seunghyun grunted. He didn’t like to think about the others. Youngbae didn’t think he’d even visited them. “I don’t know why it is different with us, maybe because we were together when it happened, I don’t know, but it  _ is _ different. I want- I want you.”

Seunghyun reached for him, and wrapped himself around Youngbae’s petite frame. Kisses pressed hot and fervent to the nape of his neck, his shoulder, his hair. There was a pulse along his body as Seunghyun’s mind surged against his. The familiar sensation came, where he could feel Seunghyun, feel himself, feel himself through Seunghyun and know Seunghyun felt the same. They weren’t two bodies, they were two minds in one body. 

_ I want you, too _ , came the gentle assurance. 

“I think,” Youngbae whispered as he felt a groan tear through Seunghyun’s -  _ his - _ chest to die as a sigh through parted lips. “I think we can tell my grandmother, tell Gran,” his words disappeared into a press of lips and teeth and tongue. 

 

The next day was another trip to the doctor to check on Seunghyun’s leg. Youngbae filled the car ride with babble about Dr. Park, how she’d grown up here, just a few grades above Youngbae. How she’d moved away to school and then to the states, and then decided to settle here in this backwater village. “She was hurt, really bad. Some American boy I think, she never really said, but-” Youngbae rotated the wheel as he turned into the clinic. “She didn’t want to go back to the city. So, she settled here and when her brother finished up nursing school they set up shop together. It’s great for the village, she’s really very good. Sometimes I’m sad that she’s stuck here, though. She’d be better off in Seoul.”

He felt the brush of a finger along his side. “Oh, the tats?” He said, referencing the large tattoos that scrawled over his side and back. “Yeah that was Dara. She picked it up in the states and when she came back didn’t want to lose the practice. Not much call for tattoos around here, so we add a new one every few years.” Seunghyun arched a brow. “No, I’m not religious, obviously.” Youngbae answered. Seunghyun’s eyes smiled and Youngbae felt a throbbing in his cock, a projection from Seunghyun. “Yes, obviously I’m not religious,” Youngbae repeated, rolling his eyes. Seunghyun huffed, the barest hint of a laugh and Youngbae doubled over, parking the car and pressing his forehead to the steering wheel.

“Wait there,” he commanded, throwing himself out of his seat and rushing to help Seunghyun down from the truck. Seunghyun never listened, already propping himself on one crutch as Youngbae grabbed his door. “It would kill you to let me make things easier on you?” He asked. Seunghyun strode by Youngbae, ignoring his sputters.

Dr. Park seemed quite pleased with Seunghyun’s recovery so far, declaring his progress much more than satisfactory. “I’m glad you are staying in the village, Myunghoon, I would have expected you to return to Seoul and receive treatment there,” she said while making notes in his chart. 

“He had nothing pressing and decided to stay with me and Gran while he recovers,” Youngbae said. 

“That  _ is _ nice,” she said. She flushed and scribbled furiously. “Seeing you is quite pleasant, Myunghoon Ssi.”

Youngbae’s stomach clenched. Dara was  _ flirting _ with Seunghyun, right in front of him. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Youngbae’s tattoos.” She fidgeted with her pen. “I don’t know but if you’re interested, I did his - I could-”

“I don’t think S-Myunghoon will be interested. They’re not really his thing.”

“Of course,” she said. She shook her head and gathered up Seunghyun’s file. She bowed and reminded them to return in 4 weeks for another checkup before leaving them.

Seunghyun’s eyes danced as they met Youngbae’s. “Jealous?” Seunghyun asked.

“She was flirting with you!” Youngbae was outraged. Seunghyun actually smiled, fingers brushing Youngbae’s hand before he reached for his crutches. 

“Come with me,” Youngbae said. Seunghyun looked at him, eyes intense. Youngbae huffed out a laugh, “I’m going to go make my rounds,” Youngbae explained. 

Youngbae made it a point to visit the elders of the village each weekend, one by one. Chopping firewood, mending fences or doors, helping to haul trash for the weekly pickup, he’d handle any little chore they might have. Seunghyun mostly kept to their porches, listening as they chattered, and accepting any bit of food they pushed at him. 

Grandma Pyo had asked that they stay and watch little Jihoonie while she rode to the neighboring village with her son in law to help her daughter with her newborn, promising she’d be home before nightfall. Jihoon had danced from tippy toe to tippy toe, hands clasped together in a silent plea that they agree. 

Youngbae had nodded and immediately set to gathering and chopping firewood to stack beside Grandma Pyo’s house while Seunghyun sat himself on the porch to watch, pulling his knife and carving out of his pocket to keep his hands busy. Little Pyo Jihoon sat himself eagerly beside Seunghyun. 

He was one of the older boys that occasionally came to Youngbae’s daycare after school, on the days his mother worked. He’d taken a quick liking to his Myunghoon-hyung. Well, all the children had, really. They didn’t care that he didn’t talk and that his default expression was a blank mask that tended more towards a glower. Youngbae had been apprehensive but the taciturn man had accepted the children placidly, on the surface at least. Youngbae knew however how he’d grown to love the children in his short month with them. Youngbae could feel the shadow of warm pleasure that spread through Seunghyun when the children curled up around him, or tugged on him, or pestered him with an endless stream of unanswered questions. 

“What’s that?” He asked, plopping his chin onto his chubby fists. Seunghyun lifted up his carving, spinning it for Jihoon to see. “Is that a Pikachu!?” Jihoon asked with excitement. Seunghyun nodded. 

“Coo-oool,” Jihoon breathed. Seunghyun smiled and reached a hand out to ruffle Jihoon’s hair. Jihoon smiled back and Seunghyun moved his hand down to cup his slender shoulder. Jihoon hissed and winced away. Seunghyun furrowed his brows and tugged up on Jihoon’s sleeve to expose a large purple bruise, tinged yellow at its edges.

“What is this?” He asked, voice sharp. Jihoon jerked away from him, angry. Youngbae dropped his axe and walked over to kneel at Jihoon’s feet. 

“Jihoonie, is someone hurting you?” Youngbae asked. Jihoon’s face closed off and he pulled away from both men, glaring. 

“No,” he shouted in defiance. 

Seunghyun met Jihoon’s gaze, levelly, and twirled the knife wickedly in his hand. Jihoon’s eyes went wide, focused on his hand. Seunghyun did it again, then let it fly to sink deep into the log Youngbae had been chopping. 

“Woaa-h,” Jihoon gasped. 

“Is somebody hurting you, Jihoon-ssi?” Seunghyun asked. Tears welled up in Jihoon’s eyes and he nodded. “Who?” Youngbae asked.

“Hyun-Joongie, Lee Hyun Joong,” he whispered, “he’s in the upper grade at school.”

“Stand up,” Seunghyun said. Jihoon stood stiffly. Seunghyun shuffled up to stand perched on one leg, cast-clad leg held out stiffly. “How do they come at you?” 

“They punch like this,” Jihoon demonstrated, before withdrawing back into himself. “They don’t like me because I’m ugly and fat.”

“I used to be ugly and fat,” Seunghyun said, voice soft. Youngbae startled. This was the first Seunghyun had offered any of himself at all in the month they’d known each other. It was also almost more than he’d spoken in all that time.

“You?” Jihoon asked, incredulous. “You’re handsome!”

“I wasn’t, when I was a kid, before -” he cut off. 

“I’m going to show you how to get them to leave you alone.” Seunghyun promised. “Is he taller than you?” Jihoon nodded. 

Youngbae walked back to the wood pile, and watched as Seunghyun showed Jihoon how to take out a bigger, taller opponent. 

He watched the barely concealed grace of Seunghyun’s body, hardly diminished by the bunk leg. As he watched, a slow sensation of dread uncoiled in his gut, erasing the pleasure watching Seunghyun helping a precious child brought. There was a lethality in Seunghyun’s movements. A practiced control over his body, an efficiency, that was unsettling to watch. Even as Seunghyun smiled a genuine, triumphant smile when Jihoon knocked him down, Youngbae could feel unease writhing under his skin. 

There was a reason Seunghyun had never talked about himself. 

He shook it off, trying to reclaim the joy he’d felt as Seunghyun shed his armor for an afternoon. 

  
  


That night they’d finally admitted to Gran that there in actuality  _ was _ something between the two of them. She had laughed and clapped Youngbae on the back, waving off his shock. “Why would I judge a grandson as perfect as you, Bae-ya?” She asked. “And how could I be angry that he’s found a good man that brings him joy? No, all the children in the village love their Uncle Myunghoon and the judgment of children in matters like these is to be trusted.”

After that day, there was a subtle shift in Seunghyun’s demeanor that grew with each passing day. He smiled easier. The tension that lived between his shoulder blades seemed to unwind. Youngbae appreciated it, and tried not to think on the other feeling, the unease. He, instead, fell in love with the shy smiles, and dancing eyes Seunghyun directed at him. He basked in an overabundance of affection that manifested in twined fingers and gentle brushes of fingers against his cheek. 

 

Seunghyun’s two month check up went off without a hitch. He was healing rapidly and well, a testament to Dr. Park’s skill, Seunghyun had commented through lowered lashes, enjoying the outrage Youngbae projected at him. Youngbae swore that, internally, Seunghyun was rolling around on the ground in a fit of giggles.

“You are quite adorable when you are jealous,” Seunghyun said as he pulled Youngbae into a kiss as soon as they settled into the truck. Youngbae started the car but his irritated grumbling was interrupted by flashing lights. He blinked furiously, and swerved the truck off of the road. A hand reached out and shook him, he clamped onto the reality of Seunghyun’s wrist. 

“He’s always the strange one,” Youngbae whispered. 

“Hyunseung?” Seunghyun asked. Youngbae nodded, shooting Seunghyun a questioning look. “I’ve seen him a few times,” he said, looking away uncomfortably. 

Youngbae moved the car back onto the road towards home. Seunghyun leaned back in his seat and faded, gone to visit Hyunseung. 

Youngbae got them home and half carried, half guided Seunghyun’s husk of a body to their room. It was disturbing to hold him when he wasn’t really there. He laid Seunghyun on his mat and stretched out beside him, spinning loose his mind and flinging himself towards Paris. 

Seunghyun and Hyunseung were half obscured by darkness, a dingy bulb bathing them in a sickly glow. Here, Seunghyun’s body was whole, perfect, vicious. Projected into Hyunseung’s body, he loomed over a man, shadows caressing his face. His eyes were hard, cold. Youngbae’s heart clawed at his chest in terror. The room seemed to shift and ebb around them. 

Youngbae’s stomach wretched as his mind processed what was going on. He’d never seen someone flayed before. Seunghyun was calculating, impassive. He seemed to ignore the screams of the man tied to the chair before him and Hyunseung. 

“Ask when he last saw her,” Hyunseung commanded, standing back, observing. 

“When did you see her?” Seunghyun echoed. 

“I haven’t seen her.” The man whined, muscles clenching and unclenching. 

“Liar,” Hyunseung whispered.

“Liar,” Seunghyun agreed. He twirled his knife, sliding it’s back along the bow of the bound man’s lip. 

He began to turn the knife, dragging the sharp point of the blade over the tender skin of the man’s face. His other hand gripped the red and raw exposed flesh of the man’s arm and he screamed in agony. 

Seunghyun’s eyes bored into the man and he waited, patiently, as the man screamed. After a time he stepped back and watched the man writhe. Youngbae watched him, horrified, frozen still to witness the man he loved as tears coursed down his cheeks. 

Eventually the man could scream no more, and his breath heaved in deep gulping gasps. Seunghyun arched a brow. “Hyunah,” he said. 

“Alright, alright.” The man’s voice was a raw rasp. “The scorpion gang is the one that picked her up. I don’t know what you heard before,” he gasped and spat blood, he was breathing strangely, Youngbae noticed. “It’s the scorpions that got her. Francis King took a liking to her after the Munich job last April. I think he’s moving her out of the country.”

Seunghyun looked to Hyunseung who nodded. Seunghyun nodded back and spun the knife in his hand, burying it in the man’s chest. 

Youngbae wrenched himself away, turning to throw up on the floor of his own bedroom. His whole body convulsed in revulsion. 

A hand reached out to him and he jerked away. 


	7. Hyunseung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: abuse: child abuse, physical and sexual

Months, months that stretched like years, Hyunseung had been searching. It had been the accident. He should have known better than to pick up that job. But they were broke. They needed money. They needed to score. They’d quit next month, or the month after, they’d promised each other in glances and unsaid words. 

He never needed words with Hyuna. 

He never should have taken that job. 

He missed her. 

Every trail had gone cold. He followed their twists and turns. He tracked people down. She was a myth, a rainbow, a fever-dream. As close as he always seemed to get, she slipped through his fingers. 

His soul ached to cry for her but he’d hardened himself. He was steel and implacable fire. He would consume everything before him until he found her. 

The others - they had confused him at first, until he found their use. The doctor was useful. He’d tapped into that knowledge when he could, and he liked to talked to him. His fiery red hair seemed a beacon of sorts. 

And the fighter, he liked the fighter - the cop. It brought him no end of pleasure that a  _ cop _ was one of his hallucinations. He’d run from cops all his life, the good ones at least. But this kid was all right, he hoped he managed to get that girl, the one he dreamed about. 

The other one, the smiley one, there was a sadness to him that reminded Hyunseung too much of his mother - so he stayed away. He didn’t like looking at heartbreak.

But Seunghyun. Seunghyun he’d recognized instantly for what he was, a killer. Seunghyun was truely useful in a way the others weren’t. The other one, the soft one had shifted him, but not enough to matter. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d called to Seunghyun. It was always difficult. He fought. He was so perfectly walled off. But Hyunseung had had no time for his pretty shields. He’d flashed at Youngbae, knowing Seunghyun would come. 

Hyunseung sighed and lifted the stripped body of the dead man and set to wrapping it in carpet. Scorpion gang. Another connection to BPO. All the lines seemed to end there. Well, not obviously. It had taken him a month to learn the major fronts to the reputable drug company. It presented well, but it’s underside was filthy. 

There was more to his twin’s disappearance than her body, than lust. No, the Scorpions had her for another reason. 

Lost in his calculations, the world shifted around him and he came to at the canal. The streets had slipped by him. He looked at the body wrapped in its packaging. He tied it with blocks and rolled it into the water. 

Scorpions though, he knew underlings in that gang. Maybe he should pay a visit to Rolfe and see about making his way up the ladder. 

 

Hyuna was pretty. Hyunseung had known that like he knew the mattress he laid on was hard and the air he breathed cold. They curled together on a mattress, covered under a thin pink blanket. Their feet curled into each other, trying to keep covered.

The man had to stop yelling sometime. Hyuna’s eyes were large and dark. She was always scared when Luc yelled; he yelled a lot. Yelling at their mother was his favorite thing. He wrapped his arm over her shoulders. She was so little, her shoulders were tiny, but so were his. 

Hyuna was smaller, he was bigger, he was older by the merest of minutes. They’d drawn breath in the same moment, his mother said. She would always cry as she remembered that Hyunsung had been quiet, cord wrapped around his neck. “I thought you were dead,” she would sob. But Hyunsung wasn’t dead and at the moment Hyuna had taken her first breath so had he. Twin shouts for twinned bodies housing a single soul. But he was moments older, so he wrapped his arms around Hyuna, contained her trembling. 

Luc’s anger was predictable. First was the drinking, and the slurring, the sloppy backhands Hyunseung had learned to anticipate. His body was her shield and when the blows began to knock him down he would pull Hyuna to him and creep back to their room. Their mother would slide in, filling the void they left. They would wrap themselves in each other and Hyuna’s heart became his haven. 

Tonight was ugly. The shudders of the walls began early, their mother’s cries were sharper. Hyunseung fought the tears he saw mirrored in Hyuna’s eyes. Her fingers stroked his brow, his cheek. They began to hum, words their mother sung to a tune played at Christmas. 

She began to sing, her words whispersoft, tuneless, she soothed the fear-driven rage of his heart, despite the terror pumping through her. “ _ Your eyes still shine with reflections of heaven.” _

Shattering glass fell in a tinkling rain, such a pretty sound to portend so much ugliness. 

“GET UP, WOMAN,” Luc’s voice was a battering ram, assaulting them through the blanket. 

“ _ And the sky until evening, is it pink or white?” _

There was sobbing, there was the sickening thud of flesh striking flesh, there were mindless growls of a beast enraged, there was the delicate brush of Hyuna’s fingers. 

Footsteps began a slow march down the hall to their room, a tattoo drumming on the veins of Hyunseung’s limbs. He grabbed at Hyuna, leaping from the bed and hurtling out the window, ignoring the ice blasting his skin, the knives of frost stabbing at his bare feet. Hyuna was silent, pulled behind them as the ran up the fire escape, to the roof, away.

Luc yelled for them, but Hyunseung was fast, and Hyuna was with him. 

They stayed away for days. Sometimes the streets were safer.

 

Hyuna was beautiful he supposed. It seemed boys always wanted to talk to her, look at her. They’d talk about tits but Hyunseung could only scoff. The bee stings on her chest couldn’t be tits. Tits were what Jaqueline barely hid as she stood beneath her street lamp. Hyuna was too small for tits. 

His friends liked to disagree. Hyunseung liked to punch them for it.

 

_ Where was Hyuna? Why couldn’t he find her? She was missing wasn’t she?  _ Hyunseung was confused.

 

One day Hyunseung was going to relieve Luc of his wallet and treat himself to an afternoon of looking at Jacqueline's breasts. 

 

He started to fight back. He was tall, almost as tall as Luc. His mom would beg and plead, but Hyunseung was strong and Luc was fat and stupid. The first time had been an accident. Hyuna had been serving dinner. She’d jumped as Luc’s hand reached to squeeze at her ass. Hyunseung thought of the times she’d curled in his arms, wincing from the bruises on her butt, her chest. Hyuna jumped away from Luc and dropped her bowl, sending meat and broth flying. Seemless, the hand on her ass flew up to strike her across the face, and blood sprayed. 

There were no thoughts, there was just the rage that had been contained for too long. Hyunseung was a whip that cracked over Luc’s shocked face. 

“ _ No! _ ” Hyuna had yelled, a cry echoed by their mother. He heard them, but they didn’t matter. What matter was Luc’s face, his jaw, his nose. What mattered was the sweet sting of his knuckles shattering against bone. 

Maybe  _ Hyunseung  _ was the stupid one. Luc caught him, squeezing a wrist and twisting, twisting while a foot came up to kick at his chest. 

The next morning when he woke, Hyuna lay next to him but did not dare stroke his face for fear of hurting him further. 

 

Hyunseung was stupid. Something in him broke that day. His fear evaporated. What did the prettiness of his face matter? Less than Hyuna’s soft cries at night when she thought everyone asleep. 

 

There was a day Luc didn’t come home. 

 

Hyunseung blinked. Confusion spun through his mind. How was he in bed? He couldn’t remember. He seemed to be losing time now a days. Had he been dreaming?

“Scorpions,” he whispered. He thought of Seunghyun, he thought of - Youngbae - he hoped they were all right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those who are into notes, I know it's been a while. I apologize. It was largely unavoidable, illness and various other major family matters have made it so I've been unable to work on fics for almost a month. I am hoping we're exiting the woods and it should be smooth sailing from here on out. Expect regular updates from here on out and apologies for this being so short.


	8. Interlude: Spiritual

Daesung smiled as he walked into the recording room. Jason was there, strumming on an acoustic guitar. He paused at the door, to watch and let the sound wash over him. Their eyes met, but Jason had that far away look he got when he played. His head bobbed in time to the beat, it was a tune Daesung didn’t know but it seeped into him. He’d caught it by the second chorus and began to sing wordlessly. 

Jason’s eyes focused and he smiled. The music changed, warmed under his fingers as it wrapped around Daesung’s voice. Because of the music, because of the tiny world it shaped, they let their eyes meet, their gaze held and Jason’s fingers danced. Laughter spilled into Daesung’s melody despite the melancholy of the music. Creation was its own joy. 

As the song wound down Jason allowed himself a few flourishes of sound. Daesung did laugh as he made his way to the couch beside Jason’s seat. He sat, setting the carrier of coffee down on the table between them. He shuffled the papers scattered over its surface and the music stopped abruptly. 

Jason tried to grab for the stack in Daesung’s hands. “Are these the songs Teddy sent over?” 

“Um,” Jason said. He jerked back the hand he’d stretched for the papers. “Well.”

“Yeah,” Daesung said, “he said he’d be faxing over the music for the Korean comeback in two months.” He began scanning over the top sheet. 

“ _ Finally I realize that I’m nothing without you,”  _ he began _.  _ He hummed a few bars. “This is what you were playing? You started practicing?”

Jason blushed. His complexion made it a bit more difficult, but Daesung always knew when Jason blushed. 

“Play it?” Daesung asked. Jason nodded and began the opening bars. His eyes danced around the room before settling on Daesung’s. His breath caught in his chest, he missed his opening. A twitch pulled up the corner of Jason’s mouth and he replayed the bars before Daesung’s entrance. Eyes on each other, he began to sing, Jason’s voice echoing his. 

“ _ Like the tides my heart is broken,”  _ Daesung sang, full throated.

_ “Like the wind my heart is shaking,”  _ Jason sang, voice sliding in just behind Daesung’s. 

_ “Like the smoke my love faded away.” _ There was something happening. The air seemed to be alive between him and Jason. His mind seemed to be ... expanding. He felt stretched but not thin. The music filled him full and he felt the shimmering barriers that kept him from  _ the others _ pulled taut. He felt he could shift and instantly touch them all. 

 

* * *

 

The rows and rows of farmland behind Youngbae’s home were bathed in the pale blue of a full moon, lighting everything bright enough to see, darkening the shadows to pull at the ache in his heart. Seunghyun should have known better. He should have realized it couldn’t last. It had been years since tears had actually coursed down his face. He felt them threatening now and there was nothing to check them. Youngbae had stripped him of so much. 

His leg shot pain up with every step. He’d left his crutches and fled. He’d fled Youngbae’s rejection, acceptance had been too good to be true. His past should have taught him, should have proven that love was impossible. He embraced the pain in his leg to ignore that in his heart.

He collapsed, agony and self-hate dominoing atop him, making standing impossible. Tears, how long since he’d cried? They fell and fell. He should feel horror, horror at what he had done, horror at what Youngbae had seen. Hyunseung needed information. Seunghyun could get it. 

He was sick, twisted, deformed, shaped by men he hated. This was who he was. This darkness that covered the light Youngbae had sought to reveal.

Dirt pressed into his face. A rock stabbed into the palm of his hand. From somewhere music began to play. A guitar. There was a hint of a voice, teasing his mind, almost too faint to make out the words. Training sharpened his ears, honed his focus and he teased the words out.

_ “I sigh deeply and the ground shakes, _

_ My heart is full of dust” _

There was another voice, too distant to hear. 

 

* * *

 

Jiyong’s phone buzzed. He rolled over, squinting eyes against the too-bright screen. The screen read just after 7. Three hours of sleep, his mind supplied. He scowled and flipped to the message. A chill ran through him and his heart began to race. 

_ Jiyong-ah, it’s Eomma, Dami gave me your number.  Jiyongah, please talk to me, I am your mother. You should not ignore me. _

He couldn’t breathe. He thought of his father, he thought of his mother. Unsummoned, the anger of their last fight came, followed by all the fights before that, the accusations, the judgement, the vitriol. He should cut off his sister for this betrayal. His stomach churned.

He was too tired to deal with the emotion. Trembling, he rolled over, letting his phone slip into the bed. He curled in on himself and held tight to his self-righteous resentment. 

He fell back into a half-dream, but now images of his parents filtered in. He remembered their first apartment, it had been so large but he was sure it was tiny. In the way of dreams he was himself, and he was five, riding around on his father’s back as they charged across their carpet, to a squealing Dami, only 2 and fat. They had laughed until his mother charged in, yelling and smacking at Jiyong with her spatula. Yelling about studies and lessons and promising him failure. His father had looked so sad but nodded. He always just nodded. 

His mind spun in confusion. Why was he always so wrong? Why did he want to laugh and play when he had to sit and study? Why was he doomed to always disappoint?

Music filtered into his dream. Daesung - he recognized that bell of a voice. It swelled and filled him. 

_ “I thought I wouldn’t be able to live even one day without you.”  _ Jason’s guitar was layered under the voice and in his sleep tears began to fall to his pillow.  _ “But from what was expected, I’m getting along quite well by myself.” _

The dream shifted around him, his parents disappearing into Kiko’s bright smile, Jinwoo’s wide eyes and Taehyun’s arrogant teasing. Seungyoon sat, cross legged, guitar strumming to Jason’s music. He laughed and fell into them, they laughed and piled on him. 

 

* * *

 

Music. Hyunseung started.

_ “You don’t answer anything as I cry out “I miss you. _

_ I hope for a vain expectation but now it’s useless.” _

Once he wanted to be a singer. He and Hyuna would dress up in his mother’s clothes and prance around their living room. Hyuna’s feet always looked silly in their mother’s overlarge heels. He liked the feel of lipstick on his lips, and the look of lipstick on hers. Their mother would clap and laugh. The light in these memories was always gold, streaming in through thin curtains. They would sing and dance with the motes of dust filtering in the light. 

There was music playing through the street as he walked, cigarette in his lips but doing nothing to calm his nerves. He wondered why the voice sounded familiar. He wondered why his heart ached. The song was familiar, but strange. He felt like he was listening through water. Maybe he was dreaming? 

But the street looked real.

He punched a wall.

It felt real. He shook his hand and took a drag off his cigarette.

 

* * *

 

A month of dates. Well not  _ dates _ . But. A month of  _ excursions _ with Daniela. She was sweet, and cute and self-absorbed in a way that made Seungri want to indulge every little whim, just to be rewarded with her pout. A month of incessant chatter and constant text messages. A month of no answer on if she was  _ really _ dating Lito, if he  _ really _ had a chance. 

He probably had no chance.

But, like a dupe, he showed up bright and early to drop a morning coffee and pastry off at her trailer. The little bunch of wildflowers was overdoing it, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. She smiled  _ just so _ when she got them. 

The guards to the set knew him. He waved as he walked past in his crisp suit. He was going to be late. He didn’t care.

He sang a tuneless little song as he wove his way through the trailers. She hadn’t texted good morning yet, so she was likely still home. He tried not to think of the fact that home was Lito’s apartment. Which, of course, meant it was all he thought about. 

“ _ I am worried.” _ He could hear Daesung singing. Yep, he was worried.

“ _ I feel anxiety because I can’t even approach you or talk to you.” _ He snorted. So perfect. 

_ “Alone in the night, I erase my thoughts a hundred times.” _

_ Dammit Daesung, _ he thought mentally at the singer. Daesung really had to stop reading his mind. It wasn’t fair. He opened the door to Daniela’s trailer and a man’s voice came, “hello?” Seungri froze.

 

* * *

 

Younbae sat, mopping the mess of his floor. The image of Seunghyun, his face, his posture, as Youngbae had jerked from him, seared into his mind. It replayed again, and again. Seunghyun never showed much expression, but there it was, drawn in stark lines on his face and bathed in moonlight. Pain. Youngbae should have reached to him, should have called to him, should have explained.

Explained that he understood.

Explained that it wasn’t rejection but shock.

Explained that it wasn’t judgement but pain, a deep pervading sorrow for what life had wrought of Seunghyun to bring him to that, to create the monster he’d seen in the sickly yellow light of a Parisian dungeon. 

He longed to reach out to the others. He longed to find comfort in Jiyong’s laugh and Daesung’s smile. He longed to reach for Seunghyun, but the silent man had fled. Months of bringing him slowly out, and he was gone. What words could he say to repair the instinct of a single moment?

He curled into Seunghyun’s pallet on the floor. The man he’d seen earlier tonight, who had teased and smiled. That man was so deeply hidden within Seunghyun. He knew the man was dangerous. What he did- he’d never asked, Seunghyun had never revealed. 

Could Seunghyun afford teasing smiles if his work called him to - whatever had happened tonight?

_ “Don’t look back and leave, _

_ Don’t find me again and just live on.” _

Someday Seunghyun would have to go back to it. Deep in his heart he knew Seunghyun was leaving.

_ “Because I have no regrets from loving you, _

_ So only take the good memories.” _

Daesung’s voice shining through their bond was a balm on his soul. He prayed Seunghyun had good memories. Of him and the children. 

_ “I can bear it in some way _ ” He had to.

_ “I can stand it in some way” _

 

* * *

 

Seungri knew that voice. He’d heard it hours upon hours as he marathoned from his couch. Lito Rodriguez was in Daniela’s trailer. They  _ were _ dating. He knew it. His little heart was breaking because, it was useless. There was no hope, no chance. He looked up at Lito standing in the doorway and he felt the flowers in his hand droop.

Lito was - beautiful, tall, he exuded sex with every breath. 

_ “You should be happy if you are like this _

_ Day by day it fades away. _

_ Oh girl, I cry, cry, _

_ You’re my all, say goodbye.” _

If it wasn’t so fucking tragic he’d laugh. His own soundtrack to personal real-life heartbreak. 

“Sorry,” he said, backing and turning away.

“Seungri?” Lito called. Seungri shook his head and kept walking. He heard Daniela’s trailer door slam shut. “Seungri,” he called again and a hand clamped on his shoulder. He halted and was turned. 

“You  _ are _ Seungri Lee?” He asked. The dirt between Seungri’s shoes was incredibly interesting. Seungri nodded. The hand on his shoulder patted. Lito’s hands were firm, strong. Seungri felt himself being nailed into the ground. 

“Ah,  _ you _ are the man Daniela’s been dating.”  A flush of guilt spread over his cheeks. Busted. “She said she was dating a  _ chinito _ .” Seungri cringed. 

“Ai.” Seungri heard a smack and looked up to see a bearded man in glasses smiling down at him. “Lito, watch your mouth.”

“Hernando,” Lito pouted as he scrubbed the back of his head. 

“Come into the trailer, Seungri,” Hernando said, putting an arm through his and pulling him back to Daniela’s trailer. 

 

* * *

 

Hyunseung had been having trouble. As he walked memories kept coming. He tried to focus. He had to make it to the cafe at the end of the street. There was a man there, linked to the Scorpions. He had to start making contacts, he had to get in.

_ “If old memories keep on being thought of, _

_ I might go look for you secretly.” _

The memories were driving him, pushing him, distracting him, trapping him. 

 

* * *

 

The song was beautiful. Jason was beautiful. He could reach out and touch the others, in their pain and their sorrow and that was beautiful. The words filled him with longing, with the sweet agony of unrequited love. He sang them  _ to _ Jason, not with Jason. Their eyes hadn’t broken once since they’d begun. 

_ I love you, I love you _ , he thought. 

“Always be happy with him, so I don’t think of anything else

You have to get along so there is not even a small regret in me”

He longed for and dreaded the day Jason found someone. He hoped, whoever it was, brought him more joy than he’d found with Mina.

 

* * *

 

Seunghyun rolled in the dirt. Plants were crushed below him, he didn’t care. The sky was dark. Everything was dark. Staying here, with Youngbae, had been a dream, had been a false hope. Moon Sang-Cheol had been held off, because even  _ he _ recognized he could rush his best agent’s healing. The op had been successful after all, T.O.P. could go off grid while Seunghyun recovered. 

He couldn’t stay away forever. 

“ _ Like the white sky and the blue clouds,  _

_ Yes, just smile like nothing is wrong,” _

That was for Youngbae, his shining sun. Seunghyun had tainted him enough. But he had to do something before he left. He owed it to Youngbae. He owed so much, so much he couldn’t give, but this, at least he could do. He got to his knees and began to stand. He had to go back to Youngbae for just one thing.

 

* * *

 

Jiyong gave up on more sleep. Too much was flashing in his mind. He could work, do something to shake off this feeling. He could still hear Daesung, but his voice was distant, he started pulling away.

_ “I can bear it in some way, _

_ I can stand it in some way” _

 

* * *

 

Youngbae sang with Daesung. 

_ “Day by day it fades away _

_ Hope your heart is relieved after leaving me _

_ Just forget me and live on _

_ Those tears will all dry up” _

 

Seunghyun was coming. He could hear stuttered steps on the porch. Seunghyun was coming to say goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Six hearts, for the briefest of moments, beat as one as they sang. The chorus was burned into their souls. They were Daesung, singing to his unattainable love. They were Jiyong, fighting against the weight of generations of expectations. They were Seungri reveling in the hope of new love. They were Hyunseung, lost but determined. They were Seunghyun, walking to a darkened house to break Youngbae’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies. I know I promised that there would not be interruptions. It really could not be helped. I'm emerging from what has been the absolute worst month of my life. Even getting out of bed has been a challenge. That said, here is this weeks update, a few days early because I had it ready. I will do everything in my power to get you next Friday's on time as well. Thank you so much to those who have given this little story continued love and support. It's the only reason I've kept posting.


	9. Seunghyun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: bullying, minor character death.

His leg was agony. He clamped his teeth together and pulled himself up into the house. He slid open the door and saw the shape of Youngbae’s body curled on his mat in the semi-darkness. He hobbled in and sat on Youngbae’s mat, stretching his legs out beside Youngbae’s curled body and resting against the wall. He wanted to reach out and touch him. He sat and instead reached with his mind. He could feel Youngbae respond, turn toward him mentally. 

“You’re leaving,” Youngbae said. Seunghyun looked down and their eyes met. 

“I want to explain,” Seunghyun said. Youngbae sat, legs drawn up, and faced Seunghyun. He reached with one hand, to intertwine his fingers with Seunghyun’s. “I can’t,” Seunghyun said. Youngbae understood. He pressed mentally against Seunghyun and Seunghyun let him in. 

Seunghyun dug into himself, for memories he’d hidden away. Through years of oblivion he dragged them up, to show to Youngbae. 

_ That’s, _ Youngbae said in his mind. 

“This,” Seunghyun said, presenting the small boy, crouched behind a shed, “is me.”

_ Your eyes gave it away,  _ Youngbae said, his presence was soft, a whisper in the wind of Seunghyun’s memory. Seunghyun felt warm. 

He’d been a chubby child. 

“Oraboni,” came a voice, high, girlish. Seunghyun brought her into focus, from where she had been barely visible in the field just beyond the shed. 

“Hye In,” Seunghyun said. Hye In ran towards the shed, to fall on top of the child, still kneeling. 

“Oraboni,” she squealed, throwing arms around him and giggling. “Found you,” she said, gasping. 

“How did you know I would be here?” The boy said. 

_ Oraboni, _ Youngbae whispered,  _ where? _

The North. 

The boy stood, bringing the girl with him. He was maybe 9 or 10, she was 5 or 6. She tightened her hands on her forearms around his neck, her legs came up to wrap his waist, and he hooked arms under her. He trotted off, her legs swinging and kicking for the joy of it. 

“Seunghyun-ah,” a man’s voice came, deep, resonant, it permeated the very air of the constructed memory. He strode into view: tall, handsome, strength in the lines of his limbs. 

“Father,” the adult Seunghyun whispered in his mind, the word a caress.

“Come, Seunghyun, let’s walk into town and get an ice cream,” the man said, plucking Hye In from little Seunghyun’s back effortlessly and tossing her up onto his shoulders. The boy Seunghyun fell into step beside his father, smaller feet skipping quick to keep up with his father’s long strides. In the background, sliding past with a shining beam of sunlight for illumination sat an elderly man and woman, side by side on the porch, hands clasped together, faces smiling. 

As the family walked, Seunghyun’s father brought a hand to settle on the young boy. The memory colored into shades of pink and yellow and warmth spread from the touch of that one hand. Seunghyun felt it, he knew Youngbae felt it. A warm shield wrapped around the boy’s heart and there was nothing that could break through the protection of that one, strong hand, gently cupping a round shoulder. 

 

There was a piano in their large house. A piano with gleaming white keys. Its sound was love and joy and happiness. Young Seunghyun would sit for hours and play, while Hye In sat next to him. She would read, or color, little feet kicking in time to the music, body swaying as he played. Sometimes she would sing and his heart would want to cry at its beauty. 

 

The boy was crying, curled in on himself in the dirt, as a group of boys stood around him, menace and contempt stretching them into giants as they spit and kicked at young Seunghyun. 

“Hey, fatty,” one boy screamed, “you going to eat the dirt now?”

One of the boys began dropping pebbles on his head while the others chanted, “fatty, fatty, fatty.” Seunghyun’s memory was dark, shadowed, the whole world seemed to be shaking, collapsing in on the boy in the center of the ring, pressing him down, down, down, with every jeer.

“Yah!” Hye In’s voice was a shattering bell, “you better run, I’m calling my dad!” The boys scattered and she ran to her brother. Tiny arms wrapped around him and held him tight. “Oraboni,” she whispered into the folds of his jacket, “can you carry me home?”

Young Seunghyun shuddered and shook his head, tears and dirt streaked across his face. She reached for her pocket to produce a handkerchief. “Oraboni,” her voice was pleading, “carry me home, ok?” Young Seunghyun nodded and slowly stood. Hye In smiled and clapped and jumped onto his unsteady back. Everything brightened as Young Seunghyun walked with Hye In perched on him.

“Oraboni,” she said. He grunted. “I like your back, it is wide and strong so it can lift me.”

 

In the darkness of their shared room, Youngbae’s eyes began to tear, and his fingers squeezed Seunghyun’s. “Understand,” Seunghyun pleaded, and pulled forth another memory.

 

It was raining, and the boy was shaking with repressed sobs, somewhere above hovered the outline of a grey grave marker, carved with a woman’s name. Young Seunghyun stood facing his father, who knelt with hands clasped on Young Seunghyun’s shoulders. 

“I will be going, so you will have to be strong, for your grandparents, and your sister.”

Young Seunghyun nodded. 

“You are a good, strong boy, Seunghyun-ah. You are smart. Pay attention to your studies and one day you could even study in the capital. Keep playing, practice every day. You play so beautifully.” His father’s hand came up to stroke Young Seunghyun’s cheek before gripping his trembling chin, holding it still.

Young Seunghyun’s voice trembled as he asked, “but where are you going?”

“To do work, important work, for very strong, powerful people. If it do it well-” Seunghyun’s father broke off to bring him into an embrace. “If I do well I can take us all out of here, to the capital, to a place where things can be better,” he whispered into Seunghyun’s ear. “Be good, boy.”

The man stood and walked away. Where his father’s hands had held his shoulders, Hye In’s hands slipped into his, and pulled him away, to run in the field behind their house, to run in sunlight and laughter. But Young Seunghyun kept turning to look back, looking for the memory of his father. 

 

Young Seunghyun was skinny, clothes hanging loose off his shoulders, eyes sunken. There was a sagginess to his skin, as though the weight was lost too fast. There was a sluggishness to his movements and a blankness to his eyes. 

“Come,” he said to Hye In, pulling her out of their darkened house into a grey world. “There were boys who said they saw nuts below the trees by the meadow.” He pulled her towards the woods that began past the last house of their village. 

“We need to go to school,” Hye In complained. “You’re smart Seunghyun, you can’t miss school.”

He ignored her and kept walking. 

“Gran-” Hye In began, and Seunghyun cut her off with a sharp jerk of his hand and walked faster. 

They walked for hours. The pain in their stomachs was all consuming. There was nothing, nothing to be found. They were so hungry. Young Seunghyun wondered if perhaps - what the ladies behind the school had been talking about was true. Perhaps tree bark could be boiled. Just before nightfall there was a cry and he ran to Hye In who was greedily stuffing mushrooms into her sack. The smiled at one another, promising one another mushroom soup.

They arrived back home from the back, a way they rarely walked. Young Seunghyun’s excitement at the paltry promise of mushroom soup had waned as he worried that it wouldn’t be enough. Something caught his eye from behind the shed. He turned to see - a small vegetable plot, perfectly hidden by the shed and the stone fence around their tall house from the road. 

Grandfather had planted it - must have - before he - he - 

There was a brief flash of a cold body in a bedroll and an old woman rocking endless hours in her porch chair, her mind gone, her eyes vacant.  Seunghyun’s memory heaved before settling back. 

 

Between the little vegetable plot and thievery and scrounging, the didn’t have to eat plants and bark much. They were lucky. Their house was big. There was a little bit of money that could be used when it was at its worst. 

 

He was older. “Seventeen,” Seunghyun provided. It was just him and Hye In. Then the man came. They were taken. They were put in a cell. They were  _ insurance _ until they were  _ punishment for failure _ . They were cold, and wet, but they were fed. They held to each other in the night. They worked at monotonous, useless jobs during the day. 

Then the man came. Colonel Moon. His face was clear, round and well fed. He took Seunghyun. He made Seunghyun fight. Hours spent beat to the ground only to have to stand. Seunghyun was quick, sharp. 

“You are good, Choi Seunghyun,” Colonel Moon praised. “The best I’ve ever seen to come out of training.” He pinned meaningless symbols onto Seunghyun’s uniform and clapped him on the shoulder, eyes greedy. “Top,” he said, “that’s what you are.”

 

TOP was sent south, face still young enough to look a boy, body honed and shaped as a weapon. There was a woman, a dancer whose name was Hye In. Seunghyun felt a wry amusement. She was strong, independent. She called him Oppa, instead of his cover name.

_ Myung Hoon, _ Youngbae said, understanding. 

It was the first time Seunghyun had felt warmth, love, since being torn from his sister. It was the first time he loved. He’d protected her, wanted her. But he had a mission to take out a rival North Korean cell. Not a mission to love and protect her. 

 

There were people on a rooftop. There was a fight over diamonds, or factions, Seunghyun didn’t care because his sister had been captured by the other side, collateral against him. She was held, in a van, screaming his name. He just had to get to her. He ran but the world refused to shift. He was frozen in soft mud, legs unable to move. He watched in slow motion as bullets struck her body. Time slowed, shrouded in ice as her scream reverberated in the air around him, sending pounding waves that broke against his skin. His light, his sun, his joy shattered with the piercing of a bullet in a heart.

 

Colonel Moon had come to him. Had promised revenge. Had promised to break the other side and Seunghyun had agreed. 

There was death. So much death. Sightless eyes, and final whispered breaths. There was begging and pleading for mercy that had died with Hye In on a cold rooftop. Seunghyun could feel Youngbae shaking beside him in their room, wracked with sobs and pain. He showed Youngbae every death. Showed him the sinking of a knife into flesh, showed him the splatter of blood behind a sniper's bullet, played for him the sickening crack of a snapped neck.

“This is what I  _ am  _ Youngbae,” he whispered, showing him his own heart as each life was extinguished. It was cold, hard, unfeeling. Death was what he  _ was _ . 

Seunghyun knew he was being hard, harsh. He was showing the ugliness. So Youngbae could see the extent of his twisted life, could see how totally he was destroyed, how hollow was his soul. He wanted to push, but there was only so far he could bring himself to go. He couldn’t hurtle over quite so completely. 

There were a few last memories to see.

Seunghyun was sitting on the porch watching Youngbae chase the little kids across the yard. It was one of his first weeks in the village. The sky was a vivid blue, and the sun was bright and hot. Youngbae was stripped to a muscle shirt and faded worn jeans. 

_ Seunghyun, that’s not what I look like,  _ Youngbae’s voice reverberated through the memory. Seunghyun could feel his embarrassment but he let the memory play out. Youngbae laughed as little Kyung ran after him, clinging and falling from his legs with little squeals. Taeil and Hanna wrestled on a carpet of soft grass and Youngbae ran to cover them, body arching over them. Kyung roared and tackled. 

“Ooohhf,” Youngbae moaned, and collapsed on his side for all three children to dogpile. His eyes were little slits, streaked with dirty tears from laughing as each child attacked a known weak spot. The inevitable happened, Taeil tripped Hanna and she toppled, mortally wounded and shrieking like a bat. 

Youngbae snapped up, instantly, he cooed gently and tucked Hanna tight against him, fingers soothing her mussed hair, his other hand gently probing her injured forehead. Kyung began to cry. “I’m sorry Hanna, I’m sorry sorry,” he sobbed.

Youngbae brought up hand to cup Kyung’s face. “It’s ok, baby, it was an accident. You didn’t mean it right?” Kyung shook his head, little shoulders trembling. “Come here,” Youngbae said, pulling Kyung down into his lap beside Hanna. “And you?” Youngbae asked Taeil who stood to the side, looking sad. Youngbae grinned at him, face so bright it caught and held the sunlight. 

_ Seunghyun _ , Youngbae’s word flitted on a cloud.

Taeil ran and Youngbae caught him one handed, lifting him and adding him to the pile on his lap. They squirmed around each other but he held them all, and rocked back and forth, hair falling in his eyes as he pressed his face to each of their heads in turn, breathing them in. He looked up and his eyes caught Seunghyun. The world seemed to shift around them, everything blurred but the shine of Youngbae’s eyes. 

 

They shifted one last time. “Not a memory,” Seunghyun said. There was a large grand piano, bathed in a pool of light, pushing back an oppressive darkness. Seunghyun sat and Youngbae stood watching him.

_ Can you still play? _ Youngbae asked.

The piano was open, Seunghyun moved forward, slender fingers positioning themselves on the keys. His back was straight and his focus was only on Youngbae. 

There was a tinkle of music, pure and clear as Seunghyun’s fingers danced up and down the scales. He moved faster and faster before stopping abruptly. The space around them - flexed - in and out with Seunghyun’s breath. They looked at one another over the piano. 

“I love you,” Seunghyun whispered and he began to play. The music was haunting, slow and building, notes weaving in and around one another. It was beautiful, and dark. Seunghyun looked to the keys as he built layers and layers of sound. 

_ Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata _ , Youngbae whispered. Seunghyun nodded. There were tears and heartache. There was the piercing knowledge of the depth of Seunghyun’s love. The image of Hye In, his sister, emerged and faded to shades of grey, followed by the other Hye In, also faded, ephemeral. Between them, in the air around them, stood Seunghyun’s projection of Youngbae, sun shining through his hair, and in his eyes. He was beautiful, and soft. Warmth enveloped the world and the darkness of the music chased the light, trilling high notes, overtook them, silenced them. The phantom of Youngbae shimmered, leaving an image of Seunghyun, dead. 

They looked at one another over the piano. 

They broke apart, came back together in the small, darkened room. Youngbae had crawled into Seunghyun’s lap at some point, head resting on his chest, fingers curled on his arm. Seunghyun’s shirt was wet.

“Understand?” Seunghyun asked. He could see feel Youngbae’s heart breaking within him. Youngbae made no answer. Seunghyun, pushed Youngbae off his lap, stood despite the pain, and walked out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still chugging along here. The beta-ing was light. Please forgive the errors.


	10. Daesung

“Look, you have to go with this director, Park Byung Soo is going to be huge. He gave you a lot of publicity on your last Korean comeback, and he and Producer Min are part of our circle.” 

Mina’s shrill voice drilled into his skull. Daesung brought fingers up to rub at his temples. Now that the Japanese tour was over, there was nothing but preparations for his end of the year, working on his Korean release and picking his next movie project. 

“But, Mina, this script-”

“The script doesn’t matter, Daesung,” she said, cutting him off. “What matters is the  _ connection _ .”

“Yes, but-”

“No, Daesung, it is important that you listen to me and  _ do what I say. _ ” 

Half an hour of  _ discussion _ and he still hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise. He felt tired. So tired. 

“Look,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I have to get down to the studio. Could we please,” he sighed, “could we please finish this later.”

She breathed in deep and fixed him with a level stare. “Fine,” she paused, “meet me at Ciao for dinner at 8.” She gathered up her purse and left him in a pile of dog-eared scripts.

Daesung wanted to curl back up into bed. 

“You know she’s terrible, right?” Jiyong’s voice repeated its common refrain. Daesung wasn’t surprised. Somehow Jiyong always managed to show up after a fight with Mina and, somehow, that fact had become his only comfort.

“Jiyong-” Daesung started. “You’re like - the shoulder angel I never wanted.”

“Devil,” Jiyong corrected, sitting himself smugly on Daesung’s couch. 

“Purple,” Daesung commented, flicking his fingers at Jiyong’s hair. 

“Yeah, your girlfriend is terrible.” Jiyong would not be distracted. Instead he patted the sofa next to him. 

“I know, Jiyong,” Daesung curled into the bare warmth Jiyong’s spectre provided. “You’ve mentioned it before.”

“So, why you with her?”

“It’s complicated,” Daesung said, feeling uncomfortable. Jiyong stared at him. 

“We’ve been together a long time,” Daesung started, then paused trying to come up with reasons. He knew there were many, so many. Time stretched on, unbearably long as Jiyong waited next to him. “And I love her- loved her,” he finished, lamely. “When we started she was huge, and I- I was a washed up Jpop idol with no prospects. And when our dating scandal broke, she took a huge hit.”

Jiyong screwed up his face. “You know a relationship can’t survive off obligation.”

“I know. I know. But I  _ do  _ love her. She is part of my life. And she’s just under a lot of pressure because she hasn’t been able to get work for a while-”

“No excuse for her to be a bitch.”

“She’s not- don’t talk about her like that.”

“Sorry.” To his credit, Jiyong did sound sorry. Arms came up to enfold Daesung. “I am pretty sure Jason loves you.”

“Do you have any idea what being outed in Japan would be like? Not to mention Korea. I could kiss everything I am, everything I’ve worked for, everything  _ he’s _ worked for goodbye.”

“You didn’t say you don’t love him.”

Daesung scowled. “Don’t you have a fashion show or something?”

Jiyong shrugged and watched him.

“My mom likes her. And she isn’t terrible all the time.”

“Daesung, I may not know celebrity but I do know how miserable it is to live a life burdened by expectation. I lived a whole life like that, and it nearly killed me. I was - am - smart. Genius, prodigy. I was on track to be a doctor by 27.” Daesung was sucked into Jiyong, he was animated as he talked, eyes far away lost in memory, hands and voice luring him in. “I was the good child, the prize. I was going to take care of my family the rest of my life.

“I was good Daesung, good at what I did. Everyone was so proud. But, it was tearing me down, breaking me apart from the inside. I was a nervous wreck. I didn’t eat and when I did I binged. And then I purged. I’m a doctor. I know what that does to a body, to a heart. I know, but,” he dragged a hand through his hair. “You do things to make it through the pressure. You tell yourself it’s what you deserve, it’s what you need to get through. You tell yourself you have to. Everyone is expecting so much, and it’s the right thing to do, and you owe them, and you love them. And you go on, knowing you’re going to break, but convinced you’re not. Until -”

“Daesung,” he came out of himself to look Daesung in the eye, “you can’t keep doing this to yourself. I abused myself, you take abuse. It. Isn’t. Right.” Jiyong stopped himself, words seemed to hang, unsaid, in the air between them.

“What happened, Jiyong?”

Jiyong sighed, and it was Daesung’s turn to wrap arms around Jiyong in comfort. 

“I’ve never really-”

Daesung waited while Jiyong steadied his breath. “I was a resident, in San Francisco. I was working under a doctor, Dr. Metzger. He was a brain specialist. He-”

Jiyong was actually trembling. Soothing sounds rumbled low in Daesung’s chest as he stroked Jiyong.

“I discovered, I saw- he performed-” he drew a shuddering breath. “There was a man in the ward, a little older. He was nice. Francis. His name was Francis. He- he’d been admitted by a cousin, uncle, some relative. He was nice, sweet. He’d talk about his wife who’d passed away from cancer. He was having - hallucinations. He would get confused, talk to people. At least that’s what his chart said. I never saw-

“Metzger signed him up for a lobotomy. Said there was a tumor. Said- but I heard him, overheard him talking to another man. They were whispering so I had to listen. Francis wasn’t really sick. He didn’t need the procedure, didn’t want it. 

“One of the nurses, Jemma, she had evidence that Metzger had falsified the brain scans. There was no tumor. I came the next day and Francis was - he was there but he was gone. Senseless. And then a day later he was really gone. Taken away. 

“Jemma tried to expose Metzger but, it was ugly, Daesung. She was, there was a stalker and there was an investigation and then,” he made a cutting motion. “Some unhinged man attacked her on her morning run and she was gone. I wanted to speak up, say something but, I collapsed on the job one day and was put in ICU and then Metzger was gone, transferred to another hospital I don’t know. When I got out I tried to track down Francis but there was nothing, he was gone, poof, like he’d never existed. 

“That’s when I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. I was sick. Really sick and messed up and I spent 3 months looking for Francis. I was having a mental break and when I gave up I locked myself in my apartment for a week and just cried and-”

Daesung held Jiyong tight. “You got out, Jiyong. You got away.”

Jiyong sniffed and nodded then pulled away. “Which is why you need to get away too, Daedae,” Jiyong said. “Not that you’re going to wind up seeing a disappeared person get a lobotomy but - life is too short Daesung. It’s too short to spend time doing projects you don’t love,” he kicked at the pile of scripts on the coffee table. “It’s too short to spend time with someone who treats you terribly, pining after someone who loves you but you tell yourself you can’t have.” Jiyong put his hands on Daesung’s shoulders. “It’s too short, Daesung.”

“I know, Jiyong, I know.”

Jiyong sighed. “You aren’t breaking up with her are you?”

“I’ll think about it,” Daesung promised. 

“Think fast.” Jiyong stood abruptly. “I have to go,” he said, “call Jason. He always makes things better.”

Daesung smiled sadly. It was only the truth.

He rolled towards the end table and plucked up his phone. He had 5 hours before he had to meet Mina. He really really did not want to pick the script she wanted. He didn’t want to work the with director or producers she wanted. Being around Producer Min Sshi always made him feel he’d dipped himself in slimey water. The man  _ had _ given him good press last year, it was true. But Byung Soo had profited from it as much as Daesung. And to be honest, Mina had profited most of all. 

Jiyong’s story played out in his mind, leaving him unsettled. He considered Jiyong’s whole story, and his advice. He tried to remember a time when he’d actually been happy with Mina. He was sure he had been once, when he was young and just starting out on his own, when he’d been determined to push past a failed group career and, despite his unattractive face (he knew what people thought of it) make it as a solo singer. 

She’d been beautiful and kind and magnanimous, going out with him, a younger man, a nobody. And he had to be honest with himself. She had opened a lot of doors for him. She’d put him in contact with people he never could have gotten to on his own. She landed him lucrative endorsements. She’d scored him a contract with the musical arm of her Korean agency, had introduced him to Teddy, the man who produced his first hit Korean album.

He needed to lose himself in music. He swiped on his phone to a series of texts from Teddy. 

> _ “Hey sorry I wasn’t able to send those songs over yesterday.” _
> 
> _ “The company computers were offline.” _
> 
> _ “I am sending them today.” _
> 
> _ “Let me know what you think and if you like them we can start working on them when you come out here in October.” _

Daesung was confused. They’d worked on Teddy’s song’s in the studio yesterday, he and Jason. The memory of singing Haru Haru with Jason sent a shiver down his spine. He’d never had such a transcendent experience while singing. He’d never come even close to what they’d shared yesterday. 

He opened up his messenger to send a reply. 

> _ “Wait- you didn’t send anything over yesterday? I thought I saw something?” _

He waited a minute and the response came through:

> _ “Nah, whatever you saw wasn’t mine. One of your band members working on something?” _

Daesung’s heart froze as he mentally replayed Jason’s face when Daesung plucked up the music for Haru Haru. The suspicion settled in his gut. Haru Haru was  _ Jason’s _ song. He groaned and opened up his gallery where he’d saved a screenshot of the song. 

He pulled up the lyrics and read them. He read them again. He remembered Jason’s eyes as they played together. His heart ached painfully.

His phone buzzed again.

> _ “Hey, we meeting today after all? -J” _

Daesung’s fingers barely functioned as he punched out a ‘yes’ in reply. Jiyong was right. Of course Jiyong was right. He was beginning to learn that Jiyong was  _ always  _ right. 

 

Daesung showed up to the studio with a hive of bees in his stomach. He took several calming breaths. They didn’t help. 

“Hey,” Jason said, smiling, looking up as he entered. He was seated at the console of the small studio room, a song playing low on the speakers. Daesung’s heart fluttered. He wanted to ask about the song but instead he smiled back and crossed to place a hand on Jason’s shoulder, looking at the screen. 

“Is this for the Korean release?” He asked. 

Jason nodded. “Yeah, Teddy sent some files over earlier.” He looked up at Daesung just as Daesung looked down. Jason’s easy smile faded as his mouth parted on a silent breath. Daesung felt like he was about to fall, but, he already had. It would be so easy to descend all the way, down to those lips, to cup the curve of Jason’s face with his hand, to press into him. Jason looked at him, black eyes begging him- for something he could not give. 

He stood abruptly. “Let’s hear them, then,” Daesung said, clearing his throat and trying to stop the stampede in his chest. Jason handed him the printouts of the music, eyes back on the screen. Their fingers did not meet as the sheaf of papers passed between them. Daesung settled into the couch across the room to listen and pretend to focus. 

It took an hour before what was in the air between them dissolved into the energy of creation. Eventually he moved to sit beside Jason, pen in hand as he gestured animatedly. They moved beside each other easily, body’s synced to the living music surrounding them. Jason’s brow would furrow, creasing to one fine line as he fussed with the computer. Daesung let himself enjoy watching him work, unobserved, now that the intensity had faded. 

“You really have to sing it that high?” Jason teased, sipping on one of the drinks they’d ordered mid-afternoon.

“Ya, look, it’s how it’s written,” Daesung insisted, waving at the sheet music with crumb covered fingers.

“Can you even go that high?” 

Daesung pulled off the fingers he’d been licking and pulled a face in mock offence. “I can sing that high! You know I can sing that high.”

“Prove it.” 

Daesung loved the way Jason’s eyes danced as they teased, loved their warmth. “Now? Right now? I’m all gross and not warmed up.” He was falling again.

“Hey,” Jason said with false calm. “It’s ok Daedae,” he placed a hand on Daesung’s, looking right in his eyes, “it’s ok if you’re a washed out- has- bee- ow, ow, ow!” He broke off as Daesung pummeled him for his abuse. Moving quickly, he grabbed at Daesung’s wrist and pulled. 

Daesung, sitting lightly in his chair, slid off easily and into Jason’s arms. His blood rushed in his ears and his heart pounded, louder than the music. He felt Jason’s body pressed around him. They froze, silent, that intensity they’d been avoiding back in an instant. Jason pulled his fist up, Daesung’s hand hovered just above Jason’s jaw. As they stared into one another Daesung’s hand loosened, palm curving to shadow the angle of Jason’s face. 

They were close, face to face, breath mingling. Jason was still, so still, looking up at Daesung. Jason’s words came to him,  _ because I have no regrets from loving you _ . Daesung traced his lip with his tongue. He moved, a fraction of an inch forward. Jason’s lips parted, inviting. He could feel the welcoming warmth of the body below him. 

Mina’s face flashed before his eyes and he jumped up. “Shit, what time is it? I have to meet Mina for dinner.” He teetered on the balls of his feet, attempting to gain balance and almost falling. Jason’s face closed up, he rolled back in his chair. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jason said, looking to the computer. “You should probably get going. 

Daesung couldn’t respond. The room around them shifted, darkened. Jason’s face was shadowed, intense.

“Dae- I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

The rest of Jason’s song came back to him, the part of it that unsettled him the most because he was certain the song was about  _ him _ . Daesung tried to meet Jason’s eyes, but his gaze couldn’t reach up that far. Daesung couldn’t look at Jason. There were words fluttering in his heart that he couldn’t speak, questions he couldn’t ask.  _ What’s the point of asking? There is nothing to be done. _

Jason’s lyrics should have clued him in. They were of loss, longing, but not for an unattained love, rather for a love left behind. He should have known but it hit him like a freight train-

“I’m leaving,” Jason said, looking at him. “I’m going back to the states.” Daesung felt himself shaking all over but he was still. “I-” Jason broke off. 

Daesung fought not to bury his face in his hands. He fought to speak the words burning in his heart. He fought to beg and plead, to confess, to do anything. He nodded. 

“I’ve been needing to for a while. I can’t-”

Daesung forced himself to look Jason in his eyes. To sear them into his mind, to memorize the fall of his lashes shrouding them, the crease between his brows, the silver glint of metal rings piercing his lips. He needed to speak but he could only nod.

“I’ll probably be gone for the rest of the year and I don’t-” Daesung is fragmenting into a thousand pieces within the shell of his skin. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back. It’s just - just too hard.”

Daesung nodded.

This, he knew as it was happening, would be the moment of deepest regret in his life. This was the moment he lost the most. He was losing the one person who gave everything and never asked for anything, the one person in his life who never took. The one person who accepted him in every way and only ever asked that he be Daedae. And all he could do was nod, and walk out the door. 

Dinner was a blur. He accepted everything Mina demanded. His movie choices, his music choices. It didn’t matter. He would give in to her eventually, why fight. Mina always got what she wanted. He’d do her movie, with her director, would smile and pretend not to notice the cameras that followed them. 

That night he couldn’t bear to be in his own home. He ached, muscles feeling abused and raw. He stripped and collapsed on his bed. He rolled and snuggled into Jiyong, still asleep at six a.m. in Los Angeles. 

Jiyong grunted and threw an arm around him, pulling him close. “Bad day?” He murmured, voice low and groggy.

“Jason is leaving,” Daesung sobbed. 

“God, all of you are a mess,” Jiyong complained, but there was a softness to his voice, compassion. “If Youngbae shows up too, you’ll have to scooch.” Jiyong pulled him tight and let him cry. 

 

The next month dragged for a year. After that first week Jiyong came to him, harried, Youngbae in tow.

“Look,” Jiyong said, looking frantically from Youngbae to Daesung, “I love you both, but I have a big premier, and it’s gonna be my big break. Y’all are in the same time zone and I can’t sew all night and hold you two all day and, I-” Jiyong looked abashed. “I love you?” He offered. “I’m not a jerk?”

Youngbae and Daesung looked at one another. They were in the same boat. Their smiles at one another didn’t reach their eyes but sympathy and understanding poured through their bond. 

“Can’t sleep?” Youngbae asked. Daesung knew he knew but he shook his head anyway.

“Do you -” He licked his lips. “Do you want to help me learn lines?”

Youngbae nodded. 

“Oh, thank God,” Jiyong said. Daesung and Youngbae looked at one another then looked at Jiyong. “I’m glad you guys like - get - me,” he continued. “Ok I’ll leave you two to it, I have an assistant to yell at.”

Youngbae was actually pretty good at helping him with lines. He wasn’t Jason, but -. Daesung liked hearing about his kids as well. 

“Jihoonie has been moping,” Youngbae said one evening. 

“The little chubby one?”

“Yeah, not even baby Kyungie can make him feel better.”

“Aw,” Daesung crooned in sympathy. 

“They miss-” Youngbae broke off. 

“He’s in Seoul,” Daesung said, but he didn’t need to. The barest stretch from either of them would find him, but neither did. He’d shut himself off from all of them, except maybe Hyunseung. 

“God, these lines are shit, Daesung,” Youngbae said, voice trembling, reaching for levity.

“I know,” Daesung pouted. 

The studio wasn’t the same without Jason either, but he kept on top of Teddy’s songs, and tried to feign eagerness to Mina for the upcoming film. Thankfully she didn’t come around much and called even less. 

 

Eventually it was time for him to head out for Beijing, where he’d be filming. His mother came to help him pack, hugged him and sent him on his way. Mina met him on his jet. 

“Oh, God, you’re still moping,” Mina said as she strode aboard. A chill enveloped Daesung’s body.

“Moping?” He asked.

“I thought a month would be enough for you to get over your stupid little crush,” she explained, face serene and impassive.

‘Crush-” he choked out.

“Your stupid little music buddy.”

“Musi-”

“Oh, God, Daesung,  _ everybody _ knows about your pathetic little  _ infatuation _ .” She was just short of a sneer. “I was hoping a month would be enough but,” she looked him over, almost grinning at his shock, “apparently not.” She shrugged. “Please try to get over yourself, for the film’s sake.”

Daesung curled in on himself and looked out the window as the plane took off. He reached out and reassured himself of the presence of the others, his  _ cluster _ , Seungri had called it, the last time he’d stumbled into Daesung’s home. He felt numb to her the rest of the flight, the rest of the day, through the endless days there-after filming. He wondered why she’d even bothered to come, until the afternoon he walked into his trailer to see her and Producer Min rutting on his couch. He hadn’t thought his world could shatter even further, but life proved him wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue, apace.


	11. Jiyong

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.”

“Namtae, chill,” Mino’s voice was deep but affectionate.

“Min-hoe,” Taehyun snapped, “shut up.”

Mino arched a brow at him. 

“Both of you knock it off,” Jiyong said, pulling them in to him. Taehyun kept a hold of the mouse, trying desperately to click the link of Jiyong’s name. 

“Jiyong,” Taehyun whined, “I’m trying to read your press.”

Jiyong preened, feeling a swell of pride, but his laugh was self-deprecating. “Whatever, I’ll read it tomorrow,” he said, pulling Taehyun off the stool and dragging him and Mino off to the small back patio of the atelier, where the rest of their small clan was drinking flutes of champagne. 

Seungyoon stood as Jiyong joined them, and gathered everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat. There were low titters of laughter as he tried to calm his smile, but he gave up and let himself grin.

“You dork,” Jiyong whispered, winking.

Seungyoon took a breath and nodded before lifting his glass. “Here is to a fantastic show for our up and coming ‘designer-to-watch’, and the best boss we - I - could ask for.” There were cheers all around as they drank and Kiko moved to slide an arm around Jiyong’s back. Seungyoon waved everyone to silence again. “Jiyong,” Seungyoon said, waving to their leader.

Jiyong straightened, holding his glass up to the people surrounding him. “This show was amazing, Kiko you were stunning, the website is a huge hit. To everyone here who gave their hard work, or their support, or their beer, thank you so much,” he scanned around him at the people looking at him with love, affection, pride and felt a swell of emotion. “When I started on this road two years ago, I had nothing and no one and now,” tears were falling and he made no move to check them, “now I have you all and so much, so, thank you.” He lifted his glass above his head. “To Paris in three months!”

“To Paris,” the crowd echoed and drank.

Kiko pulled him into a tight hug, planting a kiss on each cheek. She whispered into his ear. “Congratulations, Jiyongie.” Jiyong smiled and from the corner of his eye saw Seungyoon hovering awkwardly by Jinwoo. 

“What?” Kiko asked, following the line of his eyes, she rolled her own when they settled on the awkward pair. “Go, cupid,” she said, shoving him towards his favorite project. 

He slid effortlessly between them, hooking their arms across each other over his shoulder. He reveled in the awkward tension that roared forward whenever they touched. It was delicious. 

“Soo, what are you two talking about?”

“Um- Yoonie was - um - talking,” Jinwoo was flushed and flustered so Jiyong focused his whole attention on the wide-eyed boy.

“Oh?”

“He was talking about maybe releasing some songs on iTunes.”

Jiyong was brought up short. “Yoon, really?” He asked, turning to his assistant.

“Yeah, you know the friend of my cousin? Jason Hall? He’s back in the states and we’ve been meeting up.” 

“Yo, Seungyoon that’s awesome!” He moved to grab Seungyoon by both shoulders. “I’ve always said you were too good for that coffee house, you should do it!” He paused. “But you still gotta pull your weight in the studio. Me first, of course,” he laughed and pulled Seungyoon into a large hug.

“Of course, Jiyong, you first, always,” Seungyoon said, rolling his eyes.

“Just making sure you know who’s boss,” Jiyong said, pulling away. He pulled Jinwoo into a triangle with Seungyoon, tipping their heads together, forcing them to wrap arms around one another. He waved a hand towards Kiko, and the music playing softly in the background grew louder. The trio stood and grinned at one another. Jiyong kissed each boy on the cheek in turn and pulled away, making sure to press their arms together. 

His grin was self satisfied as he left them confused at how they were suddenly dancing together. 

“You know for someone who isn’t into sex, you seem to constantly be hooking your friends up,” Kiko whispered at his shoulder. 

Jiyong snorted. “Just cuz I don’t like the sex doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the romance.” He sighed. Seungyoon and Jinwoo were swaying awkwardly. “Those idiots aren’t even on the beat,” he groused. She laughed and took his drink for a refill.

She returned with two full flutes which they clinked before drinking amiably. “So fashion week in January, Jiyong,” she said, eyes bright and grin wide in pride. “You really did it.”

“Honestly, Kiko, I owe you. It’s because of you, because you wore that dress to the premier, because you took the chance and got people to notice.”

“No, babe, I just wore a dress. People noticed because you made them notice.” She sipped from her drink. “You really are amazing, Ji- a force of nature. Look,” she waved to the crowd, grouped in threes and fours talking, drinking, a few couples dancing. “Just look at all the people you’ve brought together to support you. To cheer you on. They all love you, you know,” she said, winking, “you won’t let them not, of course.”

He was overwhelmed, but her words were true. He slid an arm around her and pressed into her. Her warmth anchored him. 

“One day, your parents may come around.” Her words stabbed at him. Somehow she’d known that he’d been feeling their loss. The only blemish on this perfect triumph. “They’ll come around, or they might not.” Of all the people here, she had known him longest, had known him since  _ before _ . “If they don’t, don’t let the disappointment from their mistakes keep you from seeing what is here in front of you.”

She kissed the top of his head. “Do you want to tell me what is going on?” Jiyong froze. He hadn’t told her. In the three months since connecting with the others he’d never told her. Only Seungyoon and Jinwoo knew. He nodded in response and pulled her away from the party. They walked up the fire escape to the roof of the building that was Jiyong’s atelier and looked over the valley at the twinkling lights of the city. 

He stood so his shoulder pressed against her’s needing the solidity of her to anchor him in the fairy-tale world he now occupied.

“Three months ago,” he began, “I had a dream of a woman with white hair.” He paused and patted his body in search of a cigarette. She provided one and lit for them both. He puffed in and held it, letting it calm his nerves. He flicked it and set his fingers to twirling his rings.

“The woman, she wasn’t a dream. Not really, more like a vision. She called me, said she needed me. She showed me-” he took a drag, “she showed me five other people. She linked us all together, six of us. And ever since then, I can see them, feel them, talk to them. They’re - a part of me. It’s like my whole life before this was just a shadow that’s now been thrown into light so I can see it all clearly. It’s-”

“Are they real?”

“They aren’t hallucinations,” he confirmed. “They’re real people.”

“Tell me about them.” This was why Kiko was  _ his  _ Kiko. She never doubted him. She didn’t need his reassurance as a doctor. She didn’t question his obvious sanity. She just accepted, and asked to understand.

“Two of them are so stupid in love they rarely emerge from each other. Well - they had been. I mean, they are in love, but - they’re being stupid right now.”

Her laugh was a tinkling bell, bright and beautiful. “Oh, that is driving you nuts.”

Jiyong pouted. “Whatever. Seunghyun and Youngbae - they’re the love birds. Hyun is North Korean, Bae is South.”

“Star-crossed,” Kiko murmured. Jiyong took another pull on his  cigarette and nodded. 

“Then there is Daesung.”

“Like after Kang Daesung, the singer,” Kiko teased.

“Does  _ everyone _ know who he is?!”

“Jiyong, look down at your patio. All your friends are Korean born or bred. Of  _ course _ we know who he is.”

Jiyong sneered. “ _ I _ didn’t know who he was.”

“That’s because you’re a music snob when you have time for it at all.”

“Am not a snob, the only music worth listening to is Yoonie’s.”

Kiko rolled her eyes. 

“So there’s Kang Daesung-”

“Wait, you mean the  _ real _ Daesung, not some person with the same name?”

Jiyong nodded. “He’s great, but, moodier than he is in public, I think. He tends to brood a lot and, is pretty miserable. But really, really, sweet. He needs to find someone who deserves him.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s dating Mina. She doesn’t even need a last name she’s just Mina. You don’t get any better than that.”

“Kik- she’s pretty shit.”

Kiko looked at him like he’d sprouted two heads. “Look, I tell you I can talk telepathically with Kang Daesung, international superstar and nothing, but I tell you his girlfriend is shit - and  _ she is _ \- and  _ that’s _ what you can’t believe?!”

“No, I believe you it’s just. She seems so sweet and they seem like they’re really in love.”

“Well, they are actors.”

“Who else?” Kiko asked, moving on. 

“Hyunseung. He’s from Paris. He’s - there’s something weird about Hyunseung but I can’t figure it out. He’s a bit like Seunghyun. Dark and mysterious and broody, but he doesn’t make me want to punch walls in frustration.” Jiyong flicked the butt of his cigarette over the parapet. 

“And then there’s Seungri, Lee Seungri, or Seungri Lee, if you’d prefer. He’s Mexican, Korean-Mexican. He’s a cop, and he’s really really adorable. He is dating some Mexican actress and is like, so in love.”

Kiko rolled her eyes.

“This is important though,” Jiyong protested, leaning to nudge her with his shoulder. “Seungri met - others - like us. Well, one other. He’s some Mexican actor. Apparently, there are more of us - people like us.”

“So you can talk to more people around the world? Can I?”

“No, I don’t think that’s how it works. This is all coming second hand.”

“Well if Seungri met this other, can’t he introduce you so you can get it explained first hand?”

“Not really.” Kiko waited. “We are called Senseates. We’re born, different, than other people. It’s probably a genetic mutation. We’re basically connected to the other sensates in our cluster. That’s what we are - the six of us - a cluster. We’re connected from the moment we draw our first breath together, but we aren’t aware of one another until we’re put together, from the outside.”

“The woman with white hair.”

Jiyong nodded. “She called us and activated us, for lack of a better word. Since we are in the same cluster we can visit each other whenever we want, kinda, and talk to each other even though we don’t speak the same language. We can see what each other sees if we want. We can also,  _ be _ each other.”

Kiko’s brow furrowed in confusion so Jiyong paused to gather his thoughts so he could explain. 

“Like when Seungri was chasing down a thief and needed help driving, Hyunseung was there, and he  _ took over _ for a little while so that Ri could catch the guy even though he couldn’t drive the car.”

“But Jiyong, what if one of them takes you over?”

Jiyong shook his head. “They wouldn’t.”

“How do you know.”

“Because-” he paused to catch her eyes, “because I know them more deeply than I’ve ever known anyone in my whole life. They wouldn’t. do. that.”

Her eyes were worried, but she nodded in understanding. “So this other-”

“He’s in a different cluster. Seungri and he can talk, can even visit each other if they aren’t together, but we can’t because we haven’t met him first. And apparently he can’t share bodies with us. Cluster only.”

“Jiyong this-”

“-is dangerous,” he finished for her. “The other cluster had some troubles. Seungri doesn’t know all the details, but there are people out there, hunting us, tracking us down. He says it’s serious, I don’t know.”

Kiko drew back, her mind reeling behind her eyes. “Jiyong, this, this-”

“I know.”

“I-”

“Just let it process for a while,” he said. She nodded and the two of them looked out over the city in silence.

  
  


The next morning his phone rang before he was awake enough to recognize what was going on and he answered it.

“Jiyong-ah”

He bolted upright, stomach clenching in reflex.

“Mom,” he whispered.

“Jiyong-ah, please, don’t hang up.”

He hung up. 

Instantly his phone began to vibrate. He rejected the call and it vibrated again. He powered it off and rolled into bed. He was furious. Why was his mother calling at - he glanced at the clock glowing in the darkness - 6:15 am?

Anxiety began to roll through him, setting the beat of his heart on edge. He thrashed in bed before giving up. He could go work, but he’d promised himself a morning off. He hated mornings off. Restless energy intensified the anxiety. He growled and rolled one last time before giving up and hopping to Seungri, two hours ahead and just waking up.

“Um,” Jiyong said. One of Seungri’s cousins, the pretty one - Jaejoong? - was snuggled into Seungri’s chest. 

Seungri blinked at him and brought a finger up to his lips. 

“Idiot,” Jiyong said, sinking down to sit cross legged in front of Seungri’s couch, “he can’t hear me.”

Seungri pulled a face.

“So-” Jiyong waved at whatever was going on on the couch.

“He likes to cuddle,” Seungri whispered, shrugging. Jiyong arched a brow. Seungri rolled his eyes. 

“He’s always naked and cuddling,” Jiyong said. Seungri’s lips pulled into a knowing smile and he nodded. 

“It’s Jaejoong.” Seungri’s arms around the sleeping Jaejoong tightened for a moment and the man grunted and snuggled into Seungri’s neck. 

“My mom called,” Jiyong said, “I answered.”

Seungri’s eyes fluttered in alarm and instantly softened with compassion. He lifted a hand from Jaejoong’s shoulder to wave his fingers, telling Jiyong to go on. 

“I was asleep - it’s too early.” Jiyong looked at the warm light streaming in through  the living room window. “She texted a month ago, too. Early in the morning. I didn’t respond. I should have changed my number. I don’t know why she is calling. I don’t know why I’m upset. No, I know why. I just-” He sighed. “I don’t want them to  _ matter _ , Riri. I don’t”

A hand twisted awkwardly to ruffle his hair. Jiyong smiled at the caress. 

“It’ll be ok,” Seungri mouthed.

“I don’t need to call them? Someone could be sick, injured?”

Seungri’s eyes went hard and he mouthed ‘no’ and backed it up with an overwhelming push of emotion at Jiyong’s heart. 

“Ok, ok,” he whispered. And it was like he couldn’t help himself. His lips spread in an impish grin and he felt a familiar tingle of excitement run down his spine. “So how are things with Daniela?”

Seungri flushed a delicious shade of red right to the tips of his ears and his grin- Jiyong fell over himself laughing in glee. Watching the people he loved fall in love may be the thing he loved most in the world. 

Jaejoong grunted and shifted, hand coming up to palm Seungri’s face. Seungri scrunched his eyes and huffed out an offended breath, shaking Jaejoong off.

“Honestly,” Jiyong said, waving at them, incredulous, “why doesn’t he go cuddle up with his cousin or like get a girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend,” Seungri whispered, “dumped him a while back, and his cousin doesn’t put up with this shit.”

“So why do you?”

Seungri shrugged, “I don’t mind it.”

“Are you hallucinating again?” Jaejoong mumbled into Seungri’s chest and the other two started.

“Go to sleep Joongie,” Seungri whispered and stared frantically at Jiyong. Jiyong rolled his eyes and flicked back to his apartment. He lay, restless, in his bed for a short while. Closing his eyes, he reached for his cluster. They were like little stars in the blackness behind his eyes. He held on to the feeling of Seungri pushing at him and felt warm. He burrowed into his bed and slept for another couple of hours.

 

Jiyong fell out of bed two hours later and shoved himself into clothes and decided to bug Seungyoon. The kid been holed up in his recording studio in the week since the celebration party. Checking to ensure that his purple hair was perfectly bed-headed and his clothing meticulously rumpled, Jiyong cynically teased himself for trying too hard but, he answered himself with a mental shrug, why the hell not?

The drive was long and traffic jammed so he played Daesung’s album through a couple times. He’d picked it up in Koreatown weeks ago. It was actually quite good. Not his usual style, but he was inclined to love anything sung by someone who virtually lived under his skin. 

His heart ached for Daesung. It was just a month since he’d paired Youngbae and Daesung into their little Lonely Hearts Club. Part of him felt guilty, but another part also recognized it was necessary. He never would have finished in time for his show with them around, and as much as he loved and cared, he wasn’t built for sympathy to broken hearts. 

He’d checked in on the two, sent Seungri over because they both needed someone to tease them out of their misery from time to time. He’d also taken it upon himself to pop in on Seunghyun every few days. He hadn’t appreciated it. Jiyong didn’t care. 

Seunghyun was a silent, brooding mess. He spent his days holed up in a drafty rooftop apartment in the middle of Seoul. Which, with his leg, it was probably best that he never left his tiny room. Jiyong did what he could for it, without any facilities to speak of. He knew he was enabling, but there was no chance Jiyong was going to convince him to see anyone. Seunghyun’s stubbornness was really a sight to behold. Whatever was between him and Youngbae had to be love. If he hadn’t felt it himself, the mere fact Seunghyun had submitted to a doctor for Youngbae was proof enough. 

Really Seunghyun was healing up nicely. Well, as well as Jiyong could ascertain. Three months in and he was certain the cast was almost good enough to come off. If only he could get the man into a clinic and get some x-rays.

God, traffic was absolutely terrible. He rolled his eyes, then looked around, suspicious. He hadn’t moved for 5 minutes. He looked ahead down the road. He didn’t look like he would be moving anytime soon either. 

He flashed to Seoul where Seunghyun lay in his bed. It was the middle of the night but he was awake. As always, Jiyong felt a momentary flash of greed looking at Seunghyun. He  needed to put the man on a runway so badly it hurt. Then he blinked. For a moment he thought it was a bleed from his car, but no, Seunghyun was listening to Daesung’s album as well. 

Dark eyes took in Jiyong before rolling back to the ceiling.

“You really need to go to the clinic and get checked,” Jiyong started.

“Okay,” Seunghyun said.

Jiyong startled. That was the first audible word Seunghyun had spoken to him since he’d left Youngbae. “Wait-,” Jiyong said.

“I’ll go. I need to get back to work,” Seunghyun said, his voice monotone.

Jiyong knew he wasn’t talking about the mindless retail job he’d worked before his accident. 

“Have they called you?” Jiyong asked.  _ They _ \- Seunghyun’s military handlers. Seunghyun didn’t answer, but the line of his mouth said yes. 

“So that’s it, you’re going right back to it?” Jiyong’s frustration seethed through his words.

Seunghyun didn’t move.

“Dammit,” Jiyong nearly flashed away but turned instead to focus wholly on Seunghyun. “Go, get checked out and I’m going to check in on you every day while you recover. I’ll be damned if I let Youngbae feel you die.”

Seunghyun lay, impassive.

Jiyong growled in frustration then growled again as traffic  _ still _ hadn’t moved. A small voice told him that was probably a stupid thing to do while driving but - fuck if he cared.

Still, it was progress. The man was going to the doctor at least. He would  shake both Seunghyun and Youngbae if he didn’t completely understand why they were where they were. Not the depth of it. He’d gathered that something had passed between the two before they separated, but he felt enough. 

It was nearly noon by the time he made it close to Seungyoon’s studio so he stopped for take out on his way. He’d strolled into the studio and nearly dropped all the food as he stood, jaw dropped. 

“You’re Jason,” he said. 

The dark man stood and grinned, confused. “Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Yeah, Jason, my friend,’ Seungyoon said, awkwardly taking the food from Jiyong, “back from Japan.”

“You’re Daesung’s guitarist,’ Jiyong said, trying to explain.

“Oh, you follow Daesung?” Jason asked.

Seungyoon looked at Jiyong conspiratorially.

“Uh, kinda,” Jiyong said. “Isn’t he on tour right now?” Jiyong knew he wasn’t, he just wanted to keep Jason talking about him. 

“Oh, uh, no the tour finished and he, uh, is filming I think?” The tips of Jason’s ears brightened and his eyes were unsettled and Jiyong felt a little spike of satisfaction. 

“But he is planning a Korean comeback right?”

Jason nodded. “Yes, I believe he announced he is.”

“You are one of his producers, too, aren’t you? How are you going to work on his and Yoonie’s stuff at the same time?” Jiyong went for wide-eyed innocence.

“I usually only work on the Japanese releases and-” he looked incredibly uncomfortable and Seungyoon stepped in, literally, setting a foot down on Jiyong’s hard, and shooting him a glare. 

“I’m sure we will work it out Ji-why don’t you start eating.” Seungyoon said.

Jiyong turned and smirked while he unpacked the burgers, but he couldn’t be deterred. “So how’d you wind up in Japan? You’re from here aren’t you?”

Seungyoon’s glare hardened as he picked the onions off his burger, but Jiyong couldn’t be stopped. This was a dream come true. The universe was demanding Jason and Daesung be together, why else send Jason to Jiyong? For his part he was going to do everything in his power to send Jason packing back to Japan as soon as possible, as soon as Seungyoon’s album was done. 

 

The next morning, Jiyong was all set for work. There was too much to be done and fashion week would arrive sooner than he was ready for it, he was sure. He was immaculate, and eager and he opened his front door to his mother, standing on his stoop. His heart crashed through his ribs and he froze, seeing her for the first time, since-

“Jiyong-ah please.”

He moved to slam the door but she pressed her back between it and the jamb. “Please,  _ adul, _ ” she begged, “your father is dying.”


	12. Seungri

Seungri had never been in love and so far, it was awesome. Daniela was everything he’d ever wanted, had he ever actually sat down to list it. Junsu loved to tease him but e kept him from caring. What was there to care about when nights were filled with the sound of her voice and his mornings were brightened with her cute little text? Junsu was just so obviously jealous.

They had to be careful, though. For appearances sake, of course. She  _ was _ a celebrity but - all told Seungri had just had the best month of his life. 

The partners were walking their beat, which today amounted to strolling and watching the neighborhood kids chase each other around a plaza. 

“So -” Junsu slurped his coffee, “big fight tonight?”

Seungri nodded. “Big payout at least.”

“You’ve been laying low a while.”

“Well,” Seungri said, flicking imaginary lint off his uniform, “it’s not really conducive to -” he broke off with a flush. 

“You haven’t!” Junsu scoffed.

“No!” Seungri rushed for damage control. “No, I’ve just not wanted to be sore and beat up and- you know.”

“Does she know?”Junsu asked.

"About the fighting?” Seungri asked. Junsu nodded. “I told her yesterday.”

“What did she say?”

“I thought she wouldn’t like it but she was excited. I think she wants to come watch tonight,” he finished speaking into his cup. 

“Rito, that’s awesome!”

“You know,” Seungri said, looking up at his partner through narrowed eyes, “my  _ family _ hasn’t come to see me fight even once.”

Junsu looked nonplussed. “Now why would we want to see our beautiful boy beaten to a bloody pulp?”

“Because-”Seungri pouted. “If you loved me you’d come see me fight.” 

Junsu laughed and rolled  his eyes. “I’m taking Joongie to dinner.”

“See me fight,” Seungri repeated. Junsu pretended to glare at him. Seungri grinned his most innocent, charming smile.

“You’re a shit,” Junsu said. Seungri nodded, conceding the truth. 

“So you’re going to come see me fight?”

“Ai, shut up already and walk,” Junsu snapped.

Seungri laughed and walked. What did it matter if Junsu snapped? His phone buzzed with Daniela’s ringtone and all was right with the world.

“Hey, pretty,” he said, grin splitting his face so wide it hurt. 

“Baaabe, so like,” Daniela paused, “I’m gonna come see you fight tonight ok? So you have to win.”

“Of course I am going to win.”

“And don’t be surprised, but I’m going to bring some friends, yeah?”

Seungri laughed. “Of course, bring anyone you want.”

Junsu pulled a face as he hung up. “Look, if she’s going and bringing friends, why do we have to go?”

“Because you said you would.”

“I never-” Junsu paused. “Wait is she bringing Lito?”

Seungri scoffed. “No, she’s not bringing him.”

“But they’re friends right? She  _ could  _ bring him.”

“Yeah, they’re friends and pretend dating but -”

“See that’s another thing, why is she pretend dating him, and secret real-dating you?”

Seungri shrugged. Daniela had explained about Lito and Hernando. He’d met both men and liked them very much, but he’d understood instantly their dynamic. He had no intention of spreading it any further than himself, even to the man he looked up to as a brother. 

“I bet she is bringing him.”

“Shut up, she isn’t.”

“We’re coming, in case she does,” Junsu said. “Not every day you get to meet a movie star.”

Seungri rolled his eyes then let himself think as they fell to silence. 

It had been a shock, honestly, stumbling upon Lito outside Daniela’s trailer. Shock and a healthy heap of star-struck wonder. 

But Lito had taken an instant liking to him. Now that they’d met a few times, though, he was certain Lito’s acceptance had hinged almost completely on Hernando’s instant approval. Though, really, Seungri had to be honest about himself, what was there to not like?

He was adorable, charming, had saved Daniela’s honor, was a specimen of masculinity and incredibly humble and hardworking and his ass was amazing in his uniform. Wearing that had definitely helped make a good first impression, he was sure. 

Yeah, he and Lito had started off on a good foot. What had come as a true shock happened a couple weeks later. He’d been fretting at his local bar, downing shot after shot. Wooing a woman was incredibly anxiety inducing. And suddenly Lito had  _ been there _ . He’d been thrown and disturbed by the suddenness of his appearance, until he realized Lito looked just as shocked.

“How?” He’d blinked and looked around the bar. 

Then Seungri had noticed his clothes, or rather, noticeable lack thereof. Not many people bar-hopped in pajama bottoms. 

“You-” Lito had said, leveling a finger at Seungri, “you are one of  _ us, _ ” he’d said. “Will explained this was possible. It is possible I just never-”

“One of us - of you -” Seungri had stammered. “You’re like the others!” He’d gaped in awe. Lito’d looked around and grabbed him by the shoulder and led him to the darkened back of the bar. 

“There are others, right? You see other people?”

“Yes,” Seungri’d been overwhelmed. He reached out emotionally for Lito, like he did with Jiyong or Daesung and hit blankness. There’d been nothing there.

“I’m not like your others,” Lito’d said. He’d cursed softly. “I wish Will were functioning, he could explain so much better than I.”

“Will?”

“He’s one of mine, my cluster. Like you are with yours. How many are you?”

“Six.” Seungri’s mind had finally caught up. “There are more like us?”

Lito’d nodded. “Look my friend, you have been drinking. Come by the condo tomorrow afternoon, and I will explain everything to you, yes?”

Seungri had nodded and Lito disappeared in the blink of an eye. The next day, Daniela had called him to inform him Lito had been serious in inviting him over. She’d seemed under the impression that Lito intended to lay out the acceptable parameters when dating part of his family while she went shopping with Hernando. In fact, Lito had explained  _ everything _ . What they were, what they did, what they could do. 

“Because I’ve seen you-” he’d explained, “looked you in the eyes. I was thinking of you last night and - boom - I was next to you. I can find you now whenever I want. I think.” He’d closed his eyes for a moment then grinned as he opened them. “Yes, I can find you now when I want.”

Seungri’d closed his eyes and focused on the image of Lito in his mind and felt, something, a twisting almost like when he reached out to the others - his  _ cluster - _ but different. 

“Thats,” Seungri’d been awestruck. “I think I can too!”

Lito’d clapped him on a shoulder and laughed, full throated. Seungri had joined him. It was amazing to have a name, words to put to what they were, to know they weren’t some strange anomaly. 

“But my friend,” Lito’d said, suddenly serious, “I must warn you, there are dangers. There are dangerous people looking for people like you and me. We have to be careful. Some of my cluster-” He’d broken off with a pained expression to his face. “No, I will talk of this later. For now, I will kiss you and send you on your way. Just remember, you do anything to Daniela, and now there is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.” His expression was dark and voice hard and serious. Seungri’s stomach had flopped uncomfortably.

“No, no, I’m just kidding,” Lito’d said, laughing and pulling Seungri into a hug. “No but seriously, hurt her and I will find you.”

He’d zipped to Jiyong as soon as possible. Of course, waking him in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t cared. He’d simply taken a page from Jaejoong’s book and crawled onto the couch with him. He’d told it all, every last scrap of information he’d gotten from Lito. Jiyong had screwed up his face while he considered all of it. 

That had all been almost a month gone. Since then, the information had made doing what they did easier. It helped to know, to understand. He’d also taken the liberty of jumping to Lito on set a few times, just to watch, because he could and know he wasn’t in the way. Lito had grinned the first few times. Honestly, what fan wouldn’t have made the same choice?

After the first few times, though, he barely registered Seungri, what was one more person on a crowded movie set? It was still novel to Seungri, who got a thrill of excitement every time he watched Lito in action. 

“So,” Lito said under his breath one afternoon between takes, “Daniela tells me you are a fighter.”

Seungri flushed, embarrassed. “No, I mean - yes - I am, a fighter. I fight. MMA. Jiujitsu, actually.” He cursed the flush of his cheeks and racked his brain for an adequate change of subject.

“Dani, ‘Nando, and I like going to fights.” He gave a lift of one shoulder. “Wrestling mostly. We should come see you.” His voice was even, but he watched Seungri over the bottle of water at his lips.

Embarrassed fluster sped his heart. The thought of his favorite actor watching him fight made him want to run. He blinked at his desk at the station with its piles of half done paperwork. He had run, right back to boredom.

He cursed his instinct. Now he looked ridiculous.

 

“Shit, she really did it,” Seungri said, anxiety just short of running him up the walls of the locker room. 

Junsu merely smiled. "Told you she'd bring them.”

Jaejoong stood behind Junsu, arm draped over his shoulders and chin resting on one. “Wait,” Jaejoong asked, “so why did we come all the way to see your fight if you’ve already got people here to watch you?”

Seungri shifted from foot to foot, panting-trying to breathe through a spike of anxiety. He gripped the edge of his metal locker and glared up it as though gaging its scalability. “She really brought him,” he said with dread. He grabbed at his phone to reread her text and the accompanying selfie: Daniella with a gorgeous man draped on each arm.

“Him?” Jaejoong asked, arching his neck to try to get a peek of Seungri’s phone. 

“Lito, Hernando,” Seungri clarified.

“Who’s Hernando?” Jaejoong asked, smirking and abandoning Junsu's back for Seungri’s

“Their friend,” Seungri said. He began a minute examination of the wraps on his fists. His heart was about to pound out of his chest. He could  _ feel  _ Junsu’s satisfied smirk.

“Shut up, ‘Su,” he whined. 

Junsu just laughed a knowing laugh. He moved to slip on Seungri’s gloves. 

“Is Hernando cute?” Jaejoong tried to reach , unsuccessfully, for Seungri's phone. “I should go check.” He walked towards the door leading to the ring.

“Yeah,” Junsu said, tightening the gloves, “let’s go see if we can sit by them.”

Seungri closed his eyes in an attempt to block their inanity. This was his night. A big fight with enough money to make a huge pile in their savings jar; his family, his girlfriend, and his celebrity crush all in the audience to watch him. He had this, he lied.

The cousins saw themselves to the stands, teasing each other with laughing jabs. Seungri paced the locker room, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He’d been training, fighting for almost a year now. He wasn’t great, but he won more than he lost. His opponent was strong, but Seungri was lighter, faster. Seungri threw a few punches at a shadow, bouncing from foot to foot, feeling his blood warm.  _ You’ve got this _ , he told himself,  _ you’re Lee fucking Seung Hyun _ ,  _ Seungri, your name  _ means _ Victory. _

He heard the announcer over the loudspeaker, announcing the fights and all the anxiety, stress, uncertainty disappeared. Seungri was on. He rushed through the door and down the aisle to shouts and cheers. The rush fueled his blood. His heart was pounding loud in his ears. He jumped into the ring and bounced on the balls of his feet, arms upraised, egging on the crowd. 

He felt a moment of alarm at the size of his opponent, but he shrugged, letting it slough off him. He threw a few fake punches and then the bell sounded. The other man hit like a damn truck. He learned pretty quick to sidestep out of every blow possible. Seungri had been right. His opponent was slow. Seungri grinned, cocky self assurance settling in him - and he hit the ground  _ hard. _

Dazed, the ceiling swirled above him. Seungri hadn’t even seen the hit coming. His vision was blurred and he heard the referee counting down. He needed to get up, had to get up. Blinking, he saw Seunghyun standing just over his opponent's shoulder. The man’s face was fucking stone. 

Seunghyun’s eyes were dark, intense, commanding. As if compelled, Seungri rose, head still spinning. The crowd roared it’s glee and he brought his fists up. Seunghyun was still there, he sensed. As he bounced around the ring he caught a glimpse, Seunghyun leaned against the wall behind the crowd, right next to him was Hyunseung’s slight frame, watching him with an eager grin. 

Of all the people here,  _ they _ had come to see him. He danced around the ring, showing off, he knew but he didn’t care. He bounced from foot to foot, weaving around his opponent’s fists. He felt invincible. 

A quick sidestep brought him to an exposed side and he laid in with a lightning burst of punches, staccato smacks of glove on skin pulling a satisfied grin across his lips. He ducked a retaliatory strike and blocked the follow-ups. A leg came up and he blocked it as well and - he was flat on the ground again. There was a ringing in his ears and a throbbing in his skull. The room was moving, spinning around him. He tried to focus on the two shapes standing above him, they were the wrong shape for his opponent or the ref. They were tall, lean. 

Seunghyun and Hyunseung were both standing over him, eyes physically willing him back to his feet. He stumbled, and made it back up, only to be grappled and taken to the ground. He writhed and thrust, struggling to get out. He felt both Hyunseung and Seunghyun press into him, trying to take over, but he glared and shoved them off. He  _ had _ this!

They flickered away but he could feel them still nearby. In their absence the roar of the crowd around him rushed in. He could hear so many voices, but one stood out amongst them all. Daniela was shrieking his name, calling him, demanding he get up. He thrust up again with his hips, uncoiling from his core, to flip his opponent over. 

It didn’t take long after that. The larger man was tired, his best hits already thrown. When he stood, victorious, he grinned up at the group cheering the loudest: the cousins, Daniela, Lito and Hernando. He still could barely comprehend the latter two. He turned as if taking in the audience and faced Hyunseung and Seunghyun, still slinking against the rear wall, but pleasure and pride rolling off them in waves. Hyunseung was actually expressive, bemused grin and arched brows acknowledging Seungri. 

 

After, in the locker room, Seungri stood with Junsu, an enthusiastic grin plastered to his partner’s face as he shook Seungri’s aching shoulders. 

“You did it, Rito! It’s cuz we were here,” he said, letting Seungri go and brushing at his shoulders. 

Seungri snorted and began to undress. 

“So, what happened, that first time you went down?”

Seungri looked a question at Junsu.

“There was a moment when you looked like you were about to talk to someone but there wasn’t anyone where you were looking. Was it a hallucination?” Junsu’s face was painted with concern. “Seungri, maybe the fighting isn’t such a good idea, eh, maybe you’re doing some permanent damage?”

Seungri shook his head. “Junsu-”

“Look Ri, when your dad left you with us, we promised we’d look after you.”

“He didn’t leave me, I left him!” Seungri was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. His fists felt tense in frustration and the ache of the fight was beginning to sink into his veins. 

“It doesn’t matter, Seungri,” Junsu said. He sat on the bench before the lockers. His hands came up to run through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. Joongie and I - we have to look after you. These incidents have been happening for months and we haven’t said much, but - they’re happening more. There are days I swear I can hear you talking to yourself for hours. Seungri I am worried. I’m glad you won this fight, I am. We - the savings jar needs the money, but - I think you need to stop.”

“They aren’t hallucinations, Su.” Seungri struggled to find the words to explain. Junsu loved him, he took his responsibility seriously. Both of the cousins did. He wished there was a way to explain what he was, his cluster, without sounding batshit crazy. 

He was about to speak when his phone buzzed. It was a text from Daniela. “Look, Lito wants to take us all to dinner. Come and I think he will be able to explain it.”

“Lito Rodriguez is going to explain your hallucinations?” Junsu asked. Seungri nodded. Junsu didn’t look convinced, but he followed Seungri out and roped Jaejoong into joining for dinner.

 

Dinner was at a small, intimate restaurant. Very, very upscale. Seungri found himself self-conscious. There was no way he could ever afford a place like this. A sudden spike of insecurity stabbed at him. Daniela was successful, well-off, he reasoned. He’d never considered it before, how low the places he’d taken her must seem. He hesitated before joining the party on the terrace at their table. 

Daniela lagged behind and placed her hand in his, giving him a smile. Seungri grinned back. What did money matter? He told himself. Love was what mattered. 

They sat around a large table. Junsu was quiet and withdrawn but Jaejoong managed to seat himself between Daniela and Hernando and took turns flirting with both. Seungri contented himself to sit back and watch. Jaejoong really was a force to behold. He had most of the table in an uproar by the time the appetizers arrived. 

Inevitably, the conversation turned to an in depth analysis of the A-list of Mexican celebrity. 

“God, her tits are so fake,” Daniela said, nose scrunching in distaste. 

“God, I know,” Jaejoong agreed. They looked at one another and giggled. Seungri laughed along and reached out a finger to smooth the wrinkles of Daniela’s nose. She snapped at the air beside his finger. Seungri rolled his eyes. 

“So, Seungri says you can explain the hallucinations.” Junsu cut in abruptly. The mood of the table instantly died and Lito looked at Junsu impassively. 

“I can, yes,” Lito said, taking a bite of his steak. 

“He says they aren’t hallucinations,” Junsu pressed.

“They aren’t,” Lito said.

“Whatever they are he’s been having them for months, and it’s distressing, but he won’t go to a doctor,” Jaejoong said, face serious.

Lito sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Seungri can you please leave the terrace? Perhaps the restroom?”

Jaejoong and Junsu watched him stand and leave. Seungri had a suspicion as to what Lito was getting at so he walked to the restroom and then snapped a photo of himself in the Men’s Room mirror and sent it to the cousins. He settled on the couch in the restroom foyer to wait. After a handful of minutes Lito appeared and beckoned him to return mentally. He closed his eyes and opened them to the table he just left, but Lito’s were the only eyes that focused on him. 

“Seungri is in the Men’s Restroom across the restaurant. His body is there, therefore he cannot hear what we are saying here, except he can. His presence is here, though only I can see him.”

Junsu snorted. “What are you some kind of crack psychic?” His voice was tight, just short of anger. Jaejoong reached out a hand to Junsu’s arm, silencing and soothing him simultaneously. 

“He is not, what he’s talking about is real,” Hernando chimed in. 

“Seungri,” Lito said, addressing Seungri where he stood behind Daniela. “Tell me something that only you and they would know.”

Seungri spoke and Lito’s voice shadowed his. “I met Changmin in High School. He was so excited to meet another Korean he dragged me home that night to meet the entire family. His brother Yunho never warmed up to me much, but you two did. When my dad’s posting moved to Europe I refused to go and moved in with you. Jaejoong, you have 8 insane older sisters, and Junsu thinks I am adorable.”

Jaejoong looked half convinced, but still confused. Junsu however - “He could have told you all of that in the month he’s been dating Daniela, or Daniela could have told you. They spend every spare scrap of time together talking about who knows what.”

Seungri sighed. Of course Junsu would have none of it. He didn’t want to tell this secret but desperate times - 

“I only told people I stayed behind because I was sick of moving around. Only you two know the real reason.” Lito echoed Seungri again.

“Which was?” Junsu demanded, though the stern set of his eyes was wavering.

“That I was unable to look that man in the face after what he did to my mother.”

Junsu didn’t respond, but he followed Lito’s gaze to look at the air in which Seungri stood. Seungri took a deep breath. 

“He cheated on her with the head of his security detail, while she was wasting away from cancer. I  _ saw _ him fucking around on her.”

Hernando’s eyes and Daniela’s head turned towards him with compassion. Lito’s were filled with pain. “I’m so sorry Seungri,” Lito said. 

Seungri could feel hot tears running down his cheeks. He had only ever spoken the real reason once, when begging the duo to take him in. He had been terrified they’d turn him away and the thought of sharing the same air as the man who fathered him filled him with so much hate and loathing he worried he’d choke on it. 

Junsu stood and strode purposefully away from the table. Jaejoong called after him, but remained, only sliding over empty seats to sit next to Daniela. 

Seungri snapped back from the table to the feel of arms throwing themselves around him. He sobbed gently into Junsu’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Seungri,” Junsu whispered.

Seungri shook his head. “No - it had to be something you knew I would tell no one else.” He scrubbed a hand over his nose and sniffed. “I don’t know why it still hurts. It was ten years ago.”

“Because it was your mom. Because it was your dad.” Junsu pulled back to look at him. “Will you be ok?”

Seungri nodded and stood. “Yeah. Now you know it isn’t a hallucination.”

“I know it isn’t a hallucination, but what is it?”

“I think Lito might be able to explain it better.”

Junsu followed him to the table. Daniela looked up as they approached, face a mask of grief. 

“Seungri,” she said, “I’m so sorry. You didn't have to share that.” 

Seungri shook his head and offered a forgiving smile. As he sat Daniela moved to press her seat right next to his, arm going around his shoulder, her face a sympathetic pout. The warmth from her arm, pressed tight against him, the comfort of Junsu on his other side, they sympathetic gaze of Jaejoong all soothed the sting of memory from his mind. Turning his attention to the actual conversation he listened as Lito explained then, what Seungri was. It was fantastical, insane.

Then he explained more. He explained about the dangers they faced as Sensates.


	13. Youngbae

It was irrational for Youngbae to feel alone. He shared an awareness with 5 - no 4 - people. He could feel them, he could turn and instantly be in their presence. But he  _ was _ alone. Because of the four, the one he really wanted to feel was the fifth. 

He could  _ feel _ the tether unique to his bond with Seunghyun. He could feel it up until the gulf Seunghyun had rent between them. He could probably through it. He knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he made up for lost time and appeased his sense of guilt by spending as much time as possible with the rest of his cluster. 

He had a vague sense of uselessness around the others. They seemed so accomplished or useful in some way or another. They lived in huge, teeming metropolises, were educated, talented. He tried not to dwell, tried not to feel resentful at the path his life had taken.

The children helped to distract during the day. He lost himself in them as he had so many times before. Nights were hardest. They left him adrift in memory.

 

Seunghyun’s intensity had been overwhelmingly physical. He would fall into Youngbae each night, desperate and hungry, as if he’d starved for Youngbae’s touch all day. It had been terrifying and intoxicating. They lay pressed up against one another, night after night, their mats always placed side by side. 

It had disturbed him, during the day, that his heart would speed up for a man, that his body ached for Seunghyun’s firm hands. Seunghyun never pushed though. He sensed the barriers holding Youngbae back. He never went past them, merely consumed what Youngbae gave. His lips would sear themselves against Youngbae’s, his tongue would work against his skin. His hands would roam over shoulder and back and chest, but always stop to rest at his hip and when it became too much. When fear overrode desire, he would pull back and pull Youngbae into him, holding them until their breathing synced then calmed. 

The accepting silence always prompted Youngbae to speak. He wound up telling Seunghyun his whole life, the little that it was. He talked about his kids, each one bringing with them their own set of worries and pride. He talked about each family in the village, the older widows who looked forward to his visits, the old couples that treated him like the son they’d lost to the big city years ago. Youngbae talked about his dad, how he died right along side his mother but kept living and breathing for years, a shattered, empty husk. His grandparents had tried to coax him out of his grief, but gave up before Youngbae even entered high school. And his grandparents, how they’d doted on him, and raised him, then his grandfather got sick and passed and his gran had needed so much help. 

Youngbae talked about the short time he’d spent in Seoul. He’d never wanted to be anything big. He’d had no major life dream. But he had wanted to get away, see if there was something else out there for him. Seunghyun was easy to talk to, his body a warm, accepting haven, solid and real. 

The nights after Seunghyun left, Youngbae cursed himself for only ever getting so far. He regretted and lamented his hesitance. Laying on his mat, alone, each dark hour was a struggle as he fought not to reach out for Seunghyun. 

Youngbae sighed into another long night. He was a bit embarrassed but grateful that Jiyong had pushed him off onto Daesung. He was always better when he was doing things for other people. It took him out of himself. 

He’d tried to stay home in his room, but the darkness was haunted with the memory of Seunghyun’s hands. He flicked to Jiyong. Crossing the space between them was difficult Jiyong was barely conscious, but Youngbae punched through to sit on the edge of his bed and wait. By the time Jiyong blinked awake the sun was starting to trace its path through the room.

“You know it’s creepy to watch me sleep,” Jiyong rasped.

Youngbae shrugged.

“You’re not even supposed to be able to do it when asleep. I’ve heard.”

Youngbae chewed on the inside of his lip before shrugging again. 

“My mom called. I answered. She keeps trying to get a hold of me. I went to Seungri.”

Youngbae let sympathy roll off him and envelop Jiyong. Jiyong smiled at him in thanks and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I swear you’re getting more and more like him,” he teased before finally giving in and giving Youngbae what he wanted. 

“Seunghyun’s going to get checked,” Jiyong said, unprompted. “He looks like he is healing well and I’ll guide him through therapy.”  

Satisfied, Youngbae leaned to give him a peck on the cheek before disappearing to Daesung for some midnight line reading. 

 

There was a script laying open on its place on the coffee table, but the sound of sobs pulled him around to the back of the couch. Daesung sat, slumped, eyes puffy and red. Youngbae knelt, concern and worry mingling in him. He reached and pulled Daesung to him. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked.

Daesung was incapable of talking. He curled into Youngbae and sobbed harder. Youngbae held him and rocked, stunned. Even when Jason left, Daesung hadn’t cried like this. Solitary tears when tipsy, yes, but never great wracking sobs. Something had happened. He made soothing sounds deep in his chest and stroked fingers through Daesung’s hair. 

Youngbae managed to coax Daesung up and guide him to the bedroom. He tucked him in and piled him with blankets before laying to wrap arms around his shoulders. The sobs were subsiding when he hazarded to speak again.

“Jason?” He asked. Daesung shook his head.

“Your mom? Mina?” Daesung’s body froze at Mina’s name.

“What happened Dae?”

Daesung’s body shook as he breathed, but he was able to speak. “She’s been cheating, Daesung. With the  _ Producer _ .”

“The Producer - for your film?”

Daesung nodded. 

“Years, lost, time, J- Jason - lost, lost Youngbae. She was cheating. For months.”

“Oh, God, Daesung I’m so sorry.” He was at a loss. There was no way to make this better. He racked his brain but all he could do was hold Daesung as the night slipped away. 

When morning struck he slipped into Dae’s senseless mind to call for delivery, food and medical supplies, and to the scheduler for the film. Daesung wasn’t in any shape to work. When the delivery boy arrived he flicked to Jiyong and dragged him back to explain how to rig an IV. He spared a moment to regret that he couldn’t make his weekend rounds to the elders. Maybe he’d try later, if he could get Daesung to rest. 

 

It was several hours, but finally Daesung fell asleep, finally severing Youngbae’s connection. Youngbae debated, but decided it was necessary. He jumped, pushing against the barriers to Seunghyun, sitting eating ramen in a drafty rooftop apartment. 

“Daesung’s girlfriend was cheating on him.” He spoke quickly, forestalling Seunghyun’s panic. “I’m sorry but - we have to help him somehow. You have - connections - and know things maybe -” He broke off as he felt the anger and outrage surging through Seunghyun. Though he rarely reached for them, he was fiercely protective and fond of the whole cluster. They were the only thing like a family he’d had in too many years. 

Youngbae kept a firm check on his emotions as he said his thanks and disappeared. Seunghyun would do something, find some way. 

 

He returned to his body, still lying on its sleeping mat. He was exhausted. He heard his gran moving about the field, probably assuming he’d left at the break of dawn. He let himself drift down into sleep for a few hours. 

 

When he came to it was late afternoon. He rolled out of his mat and shuffled to the restroom. He looked at his face in the mirror and grimaced, looking away. He really  _ should _ shave. He scrubbed through his hair, feeling gross and decided he’d gone long enough without a shower. He made it quick, not wanting to risk getting too lost in memories.

When he came out Gran was puttering in the kitchen. “Oh, Youngbae, you’re here?” He nodded, sheepish. “You didn’t go out today.” He couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse. “You miss him. It’s okay love, I know.”

Youngbae’s heart seized up. They hadn’t talked much about Seunghyun, even when he was here, past a brief acknowledgement that the relationship between them was not brotherly.

“You don’t have to tell me why he left Bae-yah, you know.” 

“I-” He broke off, unsure of himself. She patted at his hand. 

“Here,” she said, “let me make you something to eat.”

“No, Gran.”

“You haven’t been eating. You’ve been working and sleeping and moping and you’re going to sit there-” She jabbed a finger at the center of the floor where they typically ate, “and you’re going to eat everything I put in front of you.”

There was no arguing with that voice. He felt all of six years old again as he sank to the floor and crossed his legs, pulling them up into his chest and wrapping them tight with his arms. She moved towards the open kitchen and began spooning food into bowls. “You know,” she said, almost to herself, “I was quite wild in my youth.”

Youngbae smiled. This was new. Before Seunghyun, Gran had never spoken of her childhood. She loved to tell stories, about his grandfather, about falling in love, about his father as a child, but rarely about herself and never of before. Sometimes it still startled him to realize that she had lived a whole life before even his father had entered the picture. She’d been older when she finally settled down and got married, nearly 40 by the time his father had been born. Years older than he was now.

“I know Gran, I’ve heard,” he let his voice tease a bit.

“No,” she paused in the kitchen to look at him. “No, I don’t think you do.”

“I heard the story of the Japanese diplomat.”

“Well yes,” she smiled at the memory and resumed making dinner. “I lived in Seoul, was born there. It was so different. The Japanese were still in power back then.” She sneered as she chopped. “After the war, there was a woman, she was older. Chae Hong-Joo,” the name was reverent on her lips, “she was - beautiful - years seemed to not touch her, she looked no older than I, then.” 

She walked, carrying a tray loaded with food and set it in front of Youngbae. She lowered herself and began to pile up food in his bowl. She gave him a look confirming that he  _ would  _ eat everything she set out for him. His stomach was a tight knot, but he did not argue. 

“She was, beautiful,” Gran said again. “She’d been a Gisaeng, before the war, one of the last to be trained. She never told me outright, never. But the signs were there to be seen if one cared to look. She’d worked with the resistance - years and years before I met her. She was mysterious, dangerous, so beautifully broken.” She looked straight at Youngbae who was enthralled by her words. “And seductive.”

“Gran-” Youngbae protested. 

“Oh, but, she was,” Gran spoke over him. “And she knew I had fallen in love with her long before I did.”

Youngbae’s mouth fell open. “You-”

Gran’s eyes sparkled as she nodded. “Oh, I loved her, deeply and passionately. She helped me try to seduce that diplomat and after, she told me why I’d lost myself so-” Youngbae looked at her, confused. “Well how else would two beautiful Korean girls try to lure a man into bed?”

“I- you- wait.” Youngbae’s mind positively fried as he tried to accept what she was telling him. 

She laughed and swatted at him. “I made love to her! Or actually, she made love to me.” Unaware, Youngbae was shoveling food into his mouth. 

“It was a lovely summer, between wars, with her. We failed with the diplomat, but succeeded for a while with each other. She worried a bit about the age difference, about the darkness in her past that haunted her. I didn’t care about any of that. I saw her worth, her beauty. And the time in her bed-”

Youngbae flushed and stared at his half-empty rice bowl. “Well I’m sure you know what that’s like.” His ears burned and his blood rushed so loud he could barely hear.

“About that-”

“Youngbae you shared a room for two months. You tell me you never - I SAW the way you were together.”

“I was scared.”

“Scared!”

“I’ve never - with a man.”

Gran’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “But you have with a woman. Hyorin-sshi -” She trailed off.

He wanted to burrow between the floorboards. “Yes, but, only a couple of times and -” He could feel his grandmother’s eyes boring into him.

“I was terrible. It was  _ terrible _ . I’m not- it wasn’t.” He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I didn’t want it to be terrible with him.”

“Youngbae  _ everyone _ has terrible sex the first time. It happens. You learn, together, that’s how it works. That’s how it gets good.”

Regret rolled, powerful in his chest. He knew, he’d known and let Seunghyun slip through his fingers. 

“Hong-Joo -” Gran started, moving back to her memories. “She left as fall turned to winter. I loved her, and when she left my heart shattered. I could have reached out to her, that last day, when she came to say good bye. I could have reached out and clung to her. Perhaps she still would have left without me, but perhaps - perhaps I could have gone with her, or she may have stayed. Perhaps I could have lived a different life.”

A wrinkled hand reached to pat his, laying on the table. “I do not regret what life I’ve had. You - your father. And I even came to love your grandfather in time. But I do wonder, sometimes, and regret. Because in the moment her eyes looked at me as she said she was leaving, I said nothing. And I will never know if it would have been different, if I could have held tight to that love that made and destroyed and re-made me.”

Youngbae’s chopsticks scraped the bottom of his bowl and emotions churned within him.

“Bae-yah, what are you doing here?”

The question was so incongruous, so strange that he startled. “I’m eating dinner.”

She rapped his head with her knuckles. “Stupid child,” she snapped. “What are you doing here, in this town.”

“Taking care of you,” he said.

“Youngbae,” she sighed. “What are you  _ doing _ here?” She repeated.

“I don’t know.”

“I needed you - years ago when your grandfather died. The farm was too much. And you were a great help. Then those BPO dogs came in and took it all,” she scoffed and cursed them as lying thieves. “But now- Youngbae, I don’t need you now.”

“Gran, you’re an 87 year old woman living in a tiny village, you can’t live by yourself.”

“Oh, yes, I can. Do you think I can’t take care of myself? Plus the neighbors are just right there.”

“Mister Han? He’s 60!”

“And moves like he is 40!” She said, her laugh just shy of lecherous. “Grandma Park’s granddaughter works in Seoul, for a daycare. They have an opening.”

“But the children-”

“Jiho is going to be graduating soon.”

“Isn’t he -”

“No, he isn’t. I talked to his mom last week. And the children are an excuse, Youngbae, as are the elders.”

“But-”

“Go, Youngbae,” Gran’s voice was soft but firm. “Go. Work with the children there. You are so good with them. You are smart, study for the teacher’s exam. Build a life for yourself. Find Seunghyun.”

Youngbae’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, I knew his name was fake the first week.” She waved a hand at him. “Find him, hold on to him, show him he doesn’t have to be perfect to be loved. See if he will let you into his heart, and his bed. And his life.”

Youngbae’s world was spinning. He felt ancient fingers stroke the hair out of his eyes. “I know it’s hard, for boys like you. Korea is not kind to people like us. But it’s changing, my love. There are places where you could be together. And if not here - there are other places in this world that will accept you.”

He looked at her through the welling of tears in his eyes. “But - Grandmother - what if he says no?”

“Then you will know. You will know the path your life will take was not taken because of your fear of living, fear of failing.” 

She wrapped her arms around him and rocked a few times, a lullabye emanating from deep in her chest. “Beautiful boy,” she said, “with a beautiful heart.” His tears were hot as they watered the flowers of her blouse. After a few moments she patted his head. “Now clean up in here and go shave. You look terrible.”

He lay in bed, hours later, his mind still spinning. He was overwhelmed. He kept thinking of excuse after excuse and kept coming back to the feel of his grandmother’s arms around him, her words, the steely strength in her tiny body. He wanted to reach out to Jiyong. Of them all, Jiyong would probably understand most. He knew Jiyong, knew what he’d say. But Youngbae couldn’t leave. There were so many meaningless reasons that were adding up to nothing and he held onto them fiercely. 

No, he wasn’t leaving. He didn’t need to go to Seoul. The gulf between he and Seunghyun had snapped back into place as soon as he’d left last night. That was all the answer he needed. What was he going to do in Seoul? What place did he have there? He was a country bumpkin. His accent would be wrong there, his accent and his hair, and his clothes. He remembered what it was like, feeling so small in that towering metropolis.

His mind teased him with the memory of the excitement, the freedom, the exhilaration of independence, but he squashed it down.

He growled and kicked his feet in the air. He hated thinking about himself. It made him feel like he was crawling in his own skin. 

No, he wasn’t going to think about this tonight.

He flicked to Daesung, but he was still lying in his bed, half asleep. The IV had been changed, he figured a manager had come by to do it. He pressed into Daesung’s fevered thoughts but they weren’t nightmares, just a jumble of confusion. Satisfied, he flicked to Jiyong. 

 

There was a large window looking out over sparkling water spanned by a tell-tale bridge. He was in San Francisco? There was a sterile smell and a steady beeping. He looked away from the window. He was in a hospital. His heart stuttered as he took in the room, but Jiyong was standing, puffy eyed, at the foot of the hospital bed. He wasn’t sure if he could take another of the cluster falling apart. Jiyong’s eyes flicked to him. Youngbae ached with the pain and agony rolling under Jiyong’s skin. He moved, instinctive, and wrapped his arms around Jiyong’s waist from behind. He pressed himself tight into Jiyong’s back and rested a cheek on Jiyong’s shoulder. 

The tremble that shook Jiyong’s body stilled as he felt Jiyong rest into him. Youngbae peeked over Jiyong’s shoulder to the man lying in the bed, the woman sitting in the chair beside him and their fingers threaded together.

“I’m here. I came.” Jiyong’s voice was taut with anger and strain. Youngbae’s hands fisted in his shirt as his arms tightened. He squeezed a soothing hug. “I’m in this god-forsaken hospital,” Jiyong’s voice quivered. “Say what you need to say.”

“Jiyong-ah,” the woman said, her tone patronizing. 

“Say what you need to say,” Jiyong repeated.

“Son,” Jiyong’s mother said. He pointedly ignored her. 

“Son,” the man, Jiyong’s father repeated. “Son, come.” He waved a weak hand at Jiyong, pointing to his free side. Youngbae eased up so Jiyong could move, but Jiyong stayed firm. 

“Please, Jiyong,” his mother begged.

“Of all hospitals you come to this one,” Jiyong spat. “Be glad I am here. I am not moving. I came because you are my parents and  _ you _ -” he glared at the man in the bed, “are dying. Say what you need and I will leave, back to my home, and my life.”

“Jiyong - so angry,” Jiyong’s father said. He extricated his finger’s from Jiyong’s mother’s and patted her hand. “Go outside, dear,” he said.

They waited and watched Jiyong’s mother leave, staring down her son in disgust the entire time. 

“You are right to be angry,” Jiyong’s father said when she was gone. “It was deserved.” He coughed and fussed with the lines attached to his body. “It  _ is  _ deserved,” he said. “So many times I wanted to call you, to go to you. To apologize, to bring you back.” 

Jiyong was quivering again.

“So many time’s Jiyong-ah, son, I picked up the phone and began to dial your number.” He coughed again. “Pride is a terrible thing, son.” Jiyong jerked in Youngbae’s arms, spiraling deeper into rage. 

“Are you blaming me?” Jiyong bit out.

“No, no. That was for me. My pride is a terrible thing. It is true. Save for pride, for fear, I could have healed the rift between us after it started, but now, look how it has grown, Jiyong.”

“I will not forgive you.”

“But I will apologize, son.”

“Why?!” The cry from Jiyong was pained agony, ripped from deep within him. Youngbae could feel him shattering, chest heaving with suppressed sobs. “I  _ needed  _ you. My life was falling apart, I thought I was going insane.”

“I am sorry, Jiyongah.”

“I don’t need your apologies. I don’t  _ want  _ them. I was  _ here _ , in  _ this hospital _ , losing my mind and destroying myself, terrified, in danger, and all you cared about was what the  _ community _ would think of darling Jiyong failing.”

“I’m so sorry, son. Sorry for many, many things. I regret-”

The emotions in Jiyong’s body were a living thing, twisting around the two men pressed against one another at the foot of a hospital bed. Youngbae began to hum his grandmother’s lullaby  for Jiyong’s ears only, desperate to comfort.

“Jiyong.” The old man’s voice was a quivering reed in a storm. “I’ve had so many regrets in my life. But the one deepest, most painful, is you. I should have reached out long ago. I should have told you I loved you. I should have told you I cared. I should have held onto you and supported you. I should have told you how proud -” The old man’s voice broke. “I’m so proud, son. You’ve always been my shining star, my fierce dragon. I’m so proud of you.”

Jiyong breathed deeply. “Is that all? Is that all you had to say? Are you done?”

The man in the bed nodded. “I’m sorry, Jiyong,” he sighed. 

Youngbae felt Jiyong’s arms shift, felt him prepare to pull away so he stepped back. “Good bye, old man,”Jiyong said, and turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Jiyong made it to the curb, just past the hospital parking lot, before he collapsed, sinking down to the ground and holding himself as he sobbed. Youngbae wrapped arms around him and held him as he grieved.


	14. Hyunseung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide attempt

Time was a fluid thing. It seemed to ebb and flow, running concave and convex with the air around him. It pulsed, and surged, then receded. He felt strange, amorphous, like he’d just emerged from a haze of confusion. Sometimes he would catch himself staring at a butterfly for what seemed hours then spend endless nights pounding away at his keyboard or a thugs face. Whatever he could do as he followed tangled trails that threatened to go cold with every passing day.

The others had been around a lot.  _ Cluster _ . He had seen them, particularly Youngbae blinking in and out of the corner of his eye. Younbae seemed to check in daily. He didn’t speak much. 

At first Hyunseung had been hesitant, wary. He knew shit had hit the fan after that one time Youngbae had come in on him and Seunghyun working. He felt a little bad about that. After the first few times, though, it was difficult to be angry. Youngbae just always seemed, calm, accepting. Care and concern rolled off him in waves in the brief moments between his appearance and disappearance.

The rest had been in and out. One afternoon he sat and wondered. They always turned up at random times but regularly. They would help or chat. He felt a little guilty. He never really went to them. Well a few times with Seungri but - for some reason the two of them seemed to resonate the best. Like him and Seunghyun; now  _ there  _ was a kindred spirit.

Ringing sounded and he turned, confused. He hadn’t set an alarm, or at least hadn't remembered doing so, but there it sat, blaring from his mantle across the room. It seemed to vibrate into the whole space of his room.

_ Coming, coming, coming,  _ he chanted, spinning out of the bed and swaying as he stood. He was dizzy as he walked to shut off the alarm. His brain felt thick, as if he was thinking through cotton.

“This your place then?” Seungri’s voice spun him around and he grinned. 

“Um,” Hyunseung said, looking around the room, “yeah?” He furrowed his brow. “I think?” Something about that didn't feel right,  didn't feel true, but he couldn't parse the lie. He moved to turn back to Seungri and froze on the memory, the image of Hyun Ah curled in the bed, light shining in her.  Had she ever been in his apartment? He swore he had moved into the dinghy hole after the accident.

He shook his head to rattle his brain. No, he was losing it. How could he have a memory of a thing that had never happened? But it pricked at him, the memory. It seemed real. He racked his brain to bring it back as it slipped through his fingers.

“Hey.” A hand came down on his shoulder and he jumped in shock. He turned to see Seungri and he grinned.

“You won your fight!” Hyunseung grinned and clapped a hand over Seungri’s shoulder. Seungri nodded in reply, bright smile splitting his face. 

“Yeah, about that,” Seungri said, “thanks for that, you and Seunghyun. I - it meant a lot that you were there.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Hyunseung shrugged. “Look, you want to get breakfast?”

“I - uh - don’t think I can eat? Like this? But I’ll go with you?”

“Good, good,” Hyunseung said, pulling Seungri out the door. “Look you want a smoke?” He fished a battered pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

“I -” Seungri shrugged, defeated. “Yeah, sure,” he said, reaching for one as Hyunseung locked up his apartment. The walk to the cafe was fast, and before he knew it he was seated and eating and trying to get Seungri to eat.

“Look, so, you’re like a cop? Right?” Hyunseung asked around a mouthful of food.

Seungri nodded.

“So like, when it comes to cop things, there are like databases and shit and they’re like connected and -”

“No I probably couldn’t get into the Paris police network from mine. Plus I wouldn’t. I’m a good cop.”

“Uh huh,” he says, revising his plans. “Ok but like - what if I were to find a way to get in?”

“You’re going to sneak into the Paris police and… What?”

“One of the mucky mucks,” he said around a mouthful, “he’s been in prison for a while but is still managing to control things. And I think I might be able to get leverage on him - but I don’t know where he is, I need your help.”

“But how can I help?” Seungri asked.

“If I get in can you come with?”

“But I don’t know anything about the Paris Police or their system.”

“Yeah but you know  _ cops _ .” Hyunseung nearly spat the word. He held himself back because, profession or not, he  _ liked _ Seungri. “And you could probably understand their system better than me.”

“I don’t read French.”

He sighed. Why was he being so  _ difficult? _ “I read French,” Hyunseung said with strained patience.

“I don’t know.”

“Look is it a loyalty thing? You’re not even French!”

“Yeah but -”

Before he could explain Seunghyun was sitting with them, filling the vacant third seat at their tiny wrought-iron table. “You said something about BPO,” Seunghyun said. His voice was intense, cutting straight through their conversation. 

Hyunseung blinked, unable to get his bearings. The light seemed to be shining too strong, dazzling his eyes.

“BPO,” Seunghyun repeated. “You mentioned them, last time.”

Hyunseung racked his brain to remember. There was a connection to something. The sun was blinding, pounding light behind his eyelids as he screwed them shut. He couldn’t think around the pain. “I,” he grunted, “I don’t remember.”

Seunghyun growled and grabbed at his wrist, yanking him to Seoul. Seungri didn’t follow.

“I’m digging,” Seunghyun explained from his seat in front of the coffee table with his laptop. Hyunseung settled, cross-legged, next to him. “Mina has dirt on her.”

“Is the cheating not enough?” He asked. 

“I can’t kill her,” Seunghyun said. Hyunseung nodded. If he couldn’t kill her he could obliterate her completely. 

“There’s dirt. Her and the Producer they both have ties to BPO, but it’s deeper than that. The company seems a pharmaceutical enterprise but they have dozens of subsidiaries and holdings. Diverse. There are links back to them everywhere - worldwide.” He tapped at his computer. “I think they’re the ones that bought out Bae’s farm.” He seemed pained to say the name.

Hyunseung nodded.  _ You don’t have to talk about it.  _ He didn’t say the words but the brief moment between them, the emotions hanging too tight over them sent the message. It was the one thing he liked about Seunghyun. They didn’t have to talk too much. Didn’t have to fill the space with empty words. They could just  _ be _ . Work. 

His eyes drifted to the television playing in the background. A news report about trials of a new drug, the ingredients being developed and farmed right in their very own country! The South Korean news reporter was beaming with pride. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Seunghyun whispered. The television screen showed neat rows of crops. “That’s what they’re growing on  _ his _ land.”

The report continued and showed what seemed to be a conference. A westerner was standing at a podium, talking about some collaboration with Korean industry and its promise for the future. A translated voiceover spoke over his crisp English.

There was a stabbing in Hyunseung’s brain. He cried out and turned away from the screen. He felt like he was about to retch. Seunghyun moved to pause the television.

“There was something. It was the night - that night.” The pain became overwhelming and he cradled his aching head in his hands. Seunghyun didn’t touch him, didn’t shift his body but he felt a wave of concern. “The hand off went bad. Luc had us running with a new crew, said it would be more profitable.

‘There was -” his breath was coming in shuddering gasps, “ - we thought it was drugs. It’s what we usually move. That or cars. It wasn’t. This time - that time -” He looked up, horror recoiling in his gut as he looked at the man frozen on the screen. “It was a person. Alive, mindless. There was a man. He was terrifying,” he stared blankly at the wall, memory’s painting its dark surface. “He was tall, old, white hair, beard, but his voice was so soft. I didn’t see him up close but-” Hyunseung blinked and tried to calm the racing in his heart. 

The television flashed off and a hand fell on his shoulders, fingers strong and warm, anchoring him. “It’s ok.” Seunghyun shook him and he looked at that beautiful, shadowed face. 

“Is it?” His heart hurt. “Nothing’s been right since that night. Nothing- we ran - the accident - Hyun Ah.”

The hand on his shoulder stroked down, and he felt soothed, protected. He looked down. “Hey, the cast is gone.” Like that, the moment was gone, emotions fled. Seunghyun blinked in surprise. 

“Yeah, yesterday.” Seunghyun seemed to struggle as if debating. “Look the company-”

“What company?”

“The - you said you were contracted for them.” 

Hyunseung felt so confused. “We contracted with a lot of companies, organizations, which one do you want?”

Seunghyun regarded him, face a mask. Hyunseung began to feel a bit unsettled. “Seunghyun? Is something wrong?” Hyunseung laughed, uncomfortable. “You’re losing it, man.”

“What were we talking about?” Seunghyun asked.

“I dunno man, you said there was dirt on Mina? We can bury her right. Lying bitch,” he cursed. Seunghyun nodded slowly. He looked - wary.

They felt it at the same time. Youngbae was pulling them, hard. There was no way to resist. They moved together, to stand in the air at a staggering height, just beyond the roof of a sleek highrise, meters and meters above a bustling street. 

“Daesung,” Hyunseung said. Terror thrashed at him. Daesung was sitting on the ledge, looking down, swaying gently. Wind whipped at his hair, sweeping it every which way. He was in a robe and pajamas, slippered feet dangling over the ledge of the roof. He seemed to be tracing the paths of the cars below with his eyes. There were scraps of bandages on his hands, as from an IV. Daesung’s face seemed to glow with the lights of the city below. The moon was full and heavy, glowing through the scattering strands of his hair. 

“Daesung,” he heard the name whispered beside him and he looked to his side. Jiyong stood next to him, Seungri just beside him and Youngbae just beyond. He took Jiyong’s hand and felt Seunghyun take his other. They formed a wall. Just in front of Daesung.

“Dae,” Jiyong’s voice was fragile. “Daesung get inside, please.”

Daesung shook his head. He reached for the bottle sitting just next to him. “So many years. I  _ loved _ her, and then I didn’t but I was loyal. I gave her everything. My heart, my career.’ Tears were coursing down his face. “I gave up everything, too,” he whispered. 

_ Jason _ . The name echoed in all of them, but remained unspoken. Hyunseung’s heart broke with Daesung’s pain.

“Daesung, please, don’t do this. Please.”

“She’s going to destroy me,” Daesung said. “You watch. I know her. She is vicious. She’s going to speak, and destroy everything, everything I’ve done.” He drank. “And it’s her right. She made me.  _ Fucking  _ made me.” 

Swearing sounded so strange on him. All of this was strange, and wrong. 

“She won’t destroy you,” Seunghyun promised, his voice laced with venom. Daesung’s eyes tried to focus on him. 

“Why won’t you just  _ love _ him?” Daesung accused Seunghyun and Seunghyun recoiled. The rest shared a wave of confusion, silenced by a surge of embarrassment from Youngbae.

Hyunseung felt panic from Jiyong and Seungri was suddenly gone. Daesung toppled back off the parapet ledge and rolled onto the gravel of the roof. He continued rolling until he was at least ten feet from the edge. Seungri re-appeared, laying across Daesung’s chest.

“You all talk too much,” Seungri said.

Chagrined, the other four jumped into action. Jiyong rolled Seungri off Daesung and the two of them crouched at his side. Youngbae slid in behind Daesung, propping him up in his arms. Hyunseung knelt on his open side and he felt Seunghyun behind him. As one they wrapped arms around Daesung and he cried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends Part II.... sorry?


	15. Interlude: Physical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW; Orgy; soooo much sex srs guys but what is Sense8 without an orgy?

_ Jiyong had been shaken when he came to Jason in the studio. Jason didn’t know Jiyong well, but even he could sense it, the barely constrained panic in his voice, the tension behind his eyes. There had been no preamble, no explanation, no salutation even, just the words. “You need to go back to Daesung.” Not back to Japan, not back to the company. Back to  _ Daesung _. Jason had balked, taken aback and a little more than outraged. _

_ “What do you know of  _ Daesung? _ ” Jason’s voice had been defensive.  _

_ “I know he loves you. I know he needs you,” Jiyong said. Absolute fact, no equivocation. _

_ Jason had been angry, incensed. His stomach had clenched at the first mention of Daesung’s name. He wanted to punch Jiyong’s perfect pixie face for even mentioning Daesung. For saying Daesung loved him. He ached and he hoped, but he didn’t want to hear it from a near stranger. His hands had curled reflexively into fists. _

_ “Mina was cheating on him,” Jiyong said. The world had seemed to spin around those words. Mina - he’d always suspected - but Mina had actually been cheating.  _ Oh, Dae, _ his heart ached. _

_ “He needs you,” Jiyong continued. “He’s - bad - It’s bad. He needs people around him who  _ love _ him, who he loves. He’s left China. He’s going back home. Going to Tokyo. You need to be there when he gets back.” _

_ “I,” Jason’d stumbled over his thoughts, “I don’t know-” _

_ “You love him don’t you?” _

_ “Of course,” he’d paused, “I love him so much it hurts. I love him so much I had to leave - I couldn’t bear-” _

_ “Last night he tried to throw himself off a building.” Jiyong’s words stabbed at him and in his mind’s eye Jason could see Daesung, alone and so small above a city. _

_ “How do you know this?” Jason had asked.  _

_ “I just do.” _

_ “How do you know Daesung?!” Nothing had made sense, but there had been no doubting Jiyong’s voice, his eyes, his words.. _

_ “I just do,” Jiyong had sighed and he’d looked incredibly tired. “I flew back from San Francisco at the asscrack of dawn just to come here and tell you. I have booked you a flight and you’re going to need to leave.” _

_ So he’d left. Somewhere in there had been an explanation, barely understood, about shared spirits and bound souls and in the end it didn’t matter because he’d boarded the plane, flown across the ocean and now- now he was standing in Daesung’s living room, grateful Dae’d not changed the passcode to his apartment. Jason felt ridiculous. He didn’t even know if Daesung was in Japan. The flight could have been for nothing.  _

* * *

* * *

Daesung was angry, embarrassed, humiliated. And grateful. He was so grateful to Seungri. He had ignored every call, eventually shutting off his phone to taken something to sleep on the short flight home. He longed for his mother’s arms as he walked, alone, to his van. He needed to tell her everything, Mina, Jason, all of it he needed her sanity. He’d ached to have her with him, to let his mother tuck him in bed, and make everything alright. But he shook his head softly to himself. No, there was no telling how she would really react to the truth of him loving a foreigner, but the wrong kind of foreigner, a man, a black man. She loved him but he had no clue how far that love stretched. No he could not reach out to her. Alone, he left his driver in the garage. Alone, he rode the elevator up to his private apartment.

But he wasn’t alone when he stepped into his living room. A man stood, framed by twilight and the glow of Tokyo framed in his large glass windows.

“Jason.” He breathed and surged forward. Daesung had never even let himself hope he’d see Jason again and here he was. It was instinct, desire, need, and aching drive that pushed him forward, to wrap Jason in his arms and press his lips into a kiss. It was the madness of despair and near death that fueled him, that made him reach out to claim what he’d longed for for so long. It was a long minute before he realized what he’d done. He broke the kiss and stumbled back, calves running into his coffee table.

“God, I’m - I’m sorry.” He stuttered over his words. 

“No, no,” Jason rumbled and pulled Daesung back to him. “No, I was kissing you back.”

Daesung slid into Jason’s space, wrapping his arms around Jason’s trim waist to press himself against muscle and strength and warmth. “I,” he tentatively pushed his nose against Jason’s cheek. “I love you,” he whispered into Jason’s skin. In his arms, he felt Jason laugh, a beautiful sound that filled his very soul. Daesung squeezed tight for a moment then reached hands up to thread through coarse, curly hair. 

“I love you, Daesung,” Jason said. His eyes radiated above his smile and Daesung’s heart exploded in joy, and lust, and a warm, effusive love. He felt himself opening, consciousness spreading and flinging wide. He stared right into those eyes, glistening and welling with held tears. 

“I love  _ you _ ,” he repeated, “I have for so, so long and I-” He moved to break his eyes away but Jason’s own hands came up to mirror his, hold his face firm, holding his eyes. 

“You’re here, now, with me,” Jason said, and moved to kiss him again. Daesung dropped his hands to clench at the shirt at the small of Jason’s back, pulling their bodies into one another. 

* * *

“Ah, how long are your cousins going to be gone?” Daniela asked, pressing up against him in his tiny living room.

“All weekend,” Seungri said, thanking the Gods and Saints and anyone else who could be bothered to care about Seungri’s limping sex life. “Thank God you were still up when I got off.”

Her hand palmed at his growing erection. “You haven’t gotten off  _ yet, _ ” she purred. He rocked up into her touch. “And we had a late night, I was just getting off set when you called.”  Daniela’s lips began tracing up and down his neck and the sensation went straight for his cock. He grabbed at her little white dress and pulled, frantic.

“Finally.” Her words echoed his thoughts and she pushed him down onto his couch. He yanked her with him, pulling her into his lap. Her legs spread to press her thighs around his own. He felt her heat radiating over the length of his cock. He pulled and her mouth found his. They kissed, teeth and moans and tongue. 

She began a slow grind against him, the hem of her skirt hitching further and further up her thighs until it settled at the tiny curve of her waist. His hand followed it and settled on her hip, fingers stroking at silky skin. 

Her moans were driving him insane, as was her tiny dress. He hooked his fingers under its hem and dragged it off her, exposing lacy white underwear. The early morning light streaming in from the window shone off the perfect lines of her lean curves and flat stomach.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he growled and lifted her to press his face into lace and breast and skin. He dragged his tongue over her and basked of the feel of her nails dragging through his hair. She was moaning his name, sending throbbing pulses through the head of his cock. 

He felt it then - it slammed into him like a truck going full speed.  _ Daesung _ , his mind scrambled to put a name to  _ it _ , the overwhelming desire, lust combining, compounding, enhancing what little flame had been sparking in him just moments before into a raging inferno. 

He groaned and grabbed his cock at its base, desperate not to come from the onslaught rolling, wave after wave, over him. Daniela groaned and looked down at him. 

“Are you that hot?” She asked and he couldn’t answer. He just breathed her in and focused on her hands running over his body, lifting and removing his shirt, reaching back to unclasp her bra so her breasts, perky and round could rub against him. “Does that get you off?” She asked. He felt a spike from Daesung. He felt his orgasm momentarily ebb and he took the chance to kiss her and roll them on the couch, settling himself over Daniela. 

He could feel her hands, but now he could also feel Daesung’s. His mind spun but kept kissing, the arousal demanding contact and friction. 

* * *

Youngbae was glad for the winter sun, that it set so early now. Thus, he felt no guilt at crawling into bed at 8 pm. His day had been exhausting, his emotions felt wrung and dry. He felt weak, and lost. There were five souls a finger’s breadth away but he was bereft. They’d come so close to losing one and he’d felt so helpless. Irrationally - he knew it was irrational - he blamed himself. He should have checked in on Daesung earlier. He’d been with Jiyong but Jiyong had mostly calmed by the time they’d been pulled to Daesung. That day looped repeatedly, endlessly, in Youngbae’s mind. 

His body felt sore and dry, like he had been crying but he hadn’t. He’d fought not to lay out a second mat, telling himself he didn’t need to torture himself more with Seunghyun’s shadow. So he curled in on himself, wrapping arms around a second pillow and wishing, longing for Seunghyun. Gran’s suggestion kept repeating in his mind, leaving him sick and guilty of feeling sick and guilty.

Rolled in his bed onto his stomach, he wrapped his arms around a pillow. He could  _ smell _ Seunghyun; his body remembered Seunghyun, the long, lean lines of his body, the way his small frame would fit into Seunghyun, the little growl that would emanate from deep in his chest, and the little panting breaths he’d sigh when their lips devoured one another. 

Youngbae felt guilty because he was sure that, despite the wall between them, he knew Seunghyun could feel him when he did  _ this _ . His body rolled, the head of his cock rubbing deliciously against the pallet that was his bed. Youngbae couldn’t bring himself to care, he felt too much else. The need to strip away everything, all of it until there was nothing left but this core, basic drive was too overwhelming.  Maybe then, after, he’d be spent enough to sleep without dreams. 

He rolled back to palm his cock. There were vibrations echoing around him, resonating on the strings he associated with the rest of the cluster. There was a harmonious vibration along one of those strings, he felt a taste at the base of his skull that reminded him of Seungri. But Seungri wasn’t alone, Youngbae sensed through the lust and need that echoed between them. He had a brief glimpse of white lace, and felt the taste of a full nipple in his mouth, slick and sweet. His breath hitched and his hand gripped his cock.

There was an explosion and he was falling onto a bed, the image of black skin sheathing the well defined planes of a stomach searing into his mind. His head thrashed on his pillow, he turned -

* * *

Hyunseung was asleep. When was the last time he slept? Blood pumped into his cock. Morning wood. He sighed and rocked against the sheets. There was a beeping. There was always a beeping when he slept. It never ended, it haunted him. He hated sleeping.

* * *

Jiyong had had a terrible day. It started in San Francisco and it ended in sleepless work in his home studio. He’d not even bothered to try to get to the bedroom. He was too pent up. San Francisco, Beijing, Los Angeles, too much. He needed his home and peace. 

He thought of shifting to Youngbae. Youngbae’s steady warmth had literally kept him upright when faced with his father. He shuddered and tried to focus on the dressform. Sleeplessness and distress always lead to incredible productivity and Fashion Week would arrive faster than he could think. He had work to do, he couldn’t afford too many distractions. Not his  _ father _ , his face sneered with rancor; not his  _ friends _ , he thought fondly; not his  _ cluster.  _ That last thought brought a surge of fierce affection, possessiveness. They were  _ his _ . He soothed himself with the knowledge that he’d done what he could there. If his math was right the two of them should be -

Jiyong fought to control breathing that had suddenly become erratic. He grimaced as he realized he was beginning to flush. He’d become accustomed to this, the little bit of sexual ricochet that would echo amongst them whenever one of them … well… He squirmed, uncomfortable. Blinking, he got a flash of Seungri and Daniela and smiled. They were adorable, petulant and spoiled.  _ Good for them,  _ he thought, pleased. If only he didn’t have to feel  _ how _ good. He liked the  _ romance  _ not the lust. 

Thankfully, this didn’t happen much. None of their little cluster seemed to get much and usually it was easy to stay above the fray. Seungri was mostly frustration resolved in a morning shower, Daesung was guilt wrapped in misery and apparently he and  _ the bitch _ hadn’t been having any in months. Hyunseung - Hyunseung just confused Jiyong. Seunghyun and Youngbae, now, that had always been an interesting treat. Despite himself, Jiyong had always enjoyed the ripples that flowed when those two fell to their nightly kisses and cuddles. It never progressed further. Any time the bonfire between them began to rage they’d pull back, let it abate to a low simmer. Maybe it was because they were both in the cluster, the feedback between the two had always tingled as a warmth under his skin. 

“Ugh,” he groaned and shook his head. He needed to be focusing. He poked himself with a needle to bring his mind away from whatever Seungri and Daniela were up to. It was annoying dealing with this when he had work to -

An explosion of lust shot through his spine. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything like it. It snapped under his skin, striking at the base of his cock. He was instantly hard and shaking. He felt like he may have just come but he knew he hadn’t.

“Goddamnitguys,” he growled. This was just - he tried to jump to whoever it was and give them a piece of his mind when he saw that it was Jason and Daesung, falling, just barely, onto Daesung’s enormous bed. The small part of him that wasn’t irritated felt a smidge of self-satisfaction. It wasn’t enough to keep him from snarling in disgust. 

He blinked and flashed to Seungri and Daniela and gave them a roll of his eyes. He could feel Youngbae resonating with Seungri and Daesung and chalked him up as a lost cause. He tried to reach for Hyunseung. He needed someone with which to commiserate but Hyunseung was doing his thing again where he was unreachable and there was no way he was interrupting broken-hearted Youngbae to get a punch through to Hyunseung. 

“Ugh.” Jiyong growled again, louder for emphasis. He panted, hands braced on the work table. The head of his cock was throbbing and - fuck - if it wasn’t the cluster he’d be beyond angry. He placed a hand at the base of his cock, trying to stop the blood flow. 

He stood, shock holding lust at bay as he realized there was someone else sitting this whole affair out. He grinned. Oh this would be fun. 

* * *

Seunghyun avoided Youngbae. He considered avoiding the whole cluster but Hyunseung and Seungri were safe, they were like him. Jiyong - if he could figure out a way to stop Jiyong popping up to nag he’d be happy - or maybe less miserable. Daesung confused and depressed him.

He stretched in his small apartment. Jiyong said he had to work to bring back the leg muscles. He didn’t like the stiffness. There wasn’t enough range of motion. He kept his body working. He felt the surges coming from the cluster. His cock was aching but ignored. Let Daesung and Seungri enjoy themselves, what was it to him?

He could feel Youngbae too. He wanted to fall into it. He stood above a precipice, so easy to fall into the memory and reality of Youngbae on the other side of the fragile wall he’d built between them. He didn’t deserve to fall so he turned to pullups on the bar erected in his kitchen. 

He finished a set and let himself fall back against a wall. Jiyong was there, purple hair absurd in the yellow light of his stove.  Jiyong pressed up against him and Seunghyun tried to convince himself Jiyong wasn't really there, he was an impression, a ghost, a figment of their connection. But the sensation of warmth pressing against him, the ripples of lust echoing down his connection to the rest of the culture was all too real.

_ It’s just in my mind, _ he told himself. A soft breath ghosted along the skin of his neck as a slender thigh slid between his and - damn - it was real, as real as the blood pulsing through his cock.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of them?” Jiyong whispered in a low voice. Over Jiyong’s shoulder Seunghyun could see Daesung’s enormous bed, his body pressed under, sliding along a dark skinned man’s, beside them a confused and aroused Youngbae kept flickering in and out of existence, sometimes gone, sometimes beside them, stroking himself and moaning. Sometime’s he was Daesung, and sometimes he was Seungri, also on the bed, with a stunningly beautiful woman,  _ Daniela, _ above her, cock wet and hard sliding along her. 

His mind was a mess of limbs and moans and racing hearts. Seunghyun rocked against the thing between his legs.

"You like that Seunghyun?” Jiyong asked, all feigned innocence. Seunghyun glared at him. Jiyong laughed. “I know you do.” Jiyong’s voice was cocky and he rocked against him again. "I feel you."

"See," Seunghyun protested around small gasps for air, "it's just the bond." Lips pressed and sucked at the skin behind his ear.

"If it were just the bond, then why isn't your heart swelling with a much desire as your cock?" Teeth nipped gently at his ear and a tongue traced it shell. "Here's a hint" Jiyong said as he thrust up against him. "Maybe you don't love  _ me. _ " Jiyong kissed him then spoke against his lips "Not like you love Bae." 

And he was gone, leaving Seunghyun aching and unfulfilled.

* * *

Daesung was a live wire. Jason was streaking lines of fire up and down his body. His clothes seemed to disappear as he fell back onto his large bed. His hands were desperate as they scrambled for the hem of Jason’s shirt, the button of his pants. He needed to feel skin pressed against him. Jason kissed and sucked at his lips, pulling them between his teeth between removing their shirts. 

He was aware of sensations across his bond, he could feel Seungri and Youngbae  It was instinct. In this moment he was them and they were him, all one in desire and aching lust. He was lost in the throbbing of Youngbae’s cock and the delicious wetness bathing Seungri.

Jason pulled back, biceps taut as he held himself over Daesung. “Dae,” Jason groaned and Daesung fought to focus his eyes. Lips kissed him and pulled back again. “Dae, come back.” Jason ducked his head to nuzzle at him. “Breathe,” Jason whispered into his ear, breath hot. A tongue traced the skin along his neck.

“There’s - there’s something,” Daesung fought for coherence. 

“The cluster,” Jason whispered and pressed himself down against Daesung’s shaft. The room spun as Daesung fought to process through the haze in his mind. “Jiyong explained before I came back.” Their eyes met and Jason smiled. “Daesung.” Fingers carded through his hair. “It’s ok, I accept everything about you. It’s beautiful, you are beautiful.” Jason kissed him again and Daesung reached out for them, pulling them to him, to share with him, to revel in the sensations  surging through his body. 

Daesung felt them, pressed around him, pressed against Jason. He was kissing Youngbae, kissing Jason. “Oh fuck,” he whispered and he heard Jason chuckle as he rolled off for a moment to rummage through his side table. He returned with condoms and lube and Daesung spread his legs, willing and hungry.

Daesung felt a surge of anxiety pulse through Youngbae, borne of inexperience and shame. Daesung soothed him, and phased out of himself, pulling Youngbae in. He remained in his mind, sheathed around Youngbae as Jason slicked his fingers and began to probe at him. 

_ Feel this, Youngbae, it is nothing to be scared of _ .  _ Push down, _ Daesung commanded and his body moved sliding onto Jason’s fingers. They slid in, wet and firm and before Youngbae could panic Jason covered Daesung’s erection with his mouth. Together, Youngbae and Daesung moaned at the wet heat engulfing them, thrusting up, mesmerized by the stretch of Jason’s full lips. 

* * *

Youngbae was terrified and overwhelmed and so close to coming. He’d never been penetrated before and it felt - Jason’s fingers twisted and he arched and he felt Daesung envelop him again, whispering in his mind,  _ it’s the prostate, Youngbae, rotate your hips into it.  _ He did and a series of shocks arced up his cock, still buried in Jason’s throat. A second finger pushed into him and he felt a surge of pain, he tried to focus on Daesung’s promises that the pain was ok, that it would get better. 

He could feel Seungri’s laughter and then he felt a thick tang on the back of his throat.  _ Here, Youngbae, in case that is too much. _ And he looked from between silky thighs to round, full breasts, dark nipples erect and hard and framing a woman’s face, flushed and gasping. Wetness filled his mouth and he felt her come, he reveled in the sensation. This he had experience with. He spread Daniela’s lips with his nose and found her clit to resume sucking. She keened under him and he felt delicate, long-nailed fingers grip the back of his head. He knew it was the signal to keep going and he did, pace and pressure steady as he felt her thrust against him then shudder in a second orgasm. 

She pulled up on Seungri’s head and Youngbae surged up to kiss her. He could feel Daesung and Seungri beside him, bodies against and within him. 

* * *

Daniela had teasingly wondered what it would be like to have sex with a cluster. Seungri had flushed and said maybe, and had hoped the cluster would be willing to join him should they ever get a moment together. He’d felt Youngbae’s pain when Daesung took two fingers. It had been uncomfortable, he’d never experienced anything like it. It drew him so he pulled Youngbae into him to share Daniela so he could revel in the sensations of Daesung’s body. 

He kept one hand ghosting along Daniela’s breasts, fingers sliding to cup one then the other, teased one nipple then the next. God, she was the perfect size, he thought as he took a moment to look at Jason’s flushed, aroused face. He’d never kissed a man. He leaned down and took full, plump lips in his for a long moment before falling languidly back onto oversized pillows.

He could feel the fingers and mouth on Daesung’s cock. Jason was fucking amazing with his tongue. He could feel Daesung’s lips as his own their tongues tracing sensitive lips. He could feel Daniela come with another burst on their tongues. 

Seungri felt Daesung push at him gently and pull Youngbae back. Jason had been at three fingers, thrusting them urgently into Daesung’s body for long enough. 

He felt Jason lean up to kiss Daesung again. He heard Daesung’s whispers of love and Jason’s moans as he slipped back into his own body. He flipped them, laying on his own back, hands on Daniela’s hips, holding her over his engorged cock. Her hair spilled in a beautiful black waterfall, tips brushing the tops of her flushed breasts. He rocked his hips, letting the wetness of her lips drench his head, spill down his shaft. She reached for him and he sat up to nuzzle at her breasts, pressing his face between them and breathe her in. 

He lowered his hands, sliding her onto him at the same moment as Daesung was filled. The sensation of penetrating, being penetrated, shook him. He groaned, unable to control his voice. Daniela sank on him to the hilt, wetness and heat sheathing him. She began to rotate her hips, her muscles gripping him tight, and Jason began to thrust. He could feel Youngbae’s response, mindless, wordless pleasure. It echoed in him. He felt shocks along his prostate as Daniela flexed around him.

His fingers dug themselves into the flesh of her ass as he thrust up into her. Her body bounced on his lap, he could feel his orgasm, just out of sight and surging closer with every thrust.

* * *

Youngbae was beside him, feeling what he felt. He pressed kisses to his cheek, promises given in lips and sighs. Jason was filling him and his cock, his hands, his passion demanded answer. He pressed into every thrust. Jason was above him, slicked in sweat and flushed and beautiful. He traced the tattoos of his chest and neck with tongue and fingers. 

“Daesung,” Jason chanted and Daesung’s heart ached at she sound of his voice, raw and broken, moaning his name. “Daesung so beautiful, so - fuck - beautiful.” He sat back on heels, pulling Daesung’s body up onto his thighs so he could thrust quick and hard. He could feel Daniela’s wetness on his cock, he could feel Youngbae’s hand. They were so close, they were all so close. Hearts all beating with one consuming pulse. 

Jason’s breath stuttered, froze in his chest. He felt the throbbing pulse of the cock buried in him, filling him and he came, hot and hard, streaking his chest in warmth. There were ripples along the connection.

* * *

Youngbae thrashed in his mat, fingers mimicking Jason’s final stuttering thrusts as he came into his hand, Seunghyun’s name on his lips.

* * *

Seungri rode the wave of Daniela’s climax, feeling the warmth of her come gushing over his cock and he bit into the flesh of her arm as he came, shooting up into her. He felt Youngbae, he felt Daesung, orgasms rushing and crashing through his mind. He felt insane, he felt complete.


	16. Seunghyun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We begin the portion of this work that is largely self-beta'ed so I apologize for any lack.

He was almost completely healed. It was the almost that infuriated him. Seunghyun wouldn’t admit it but he anticipated Jiyong’s daily visits so he could grill him for ways to speed recovery. Injury was an unaffordable liability. 

He’d found what he needed to take out Mina, his selfish need for retribution proved a useful weapon against boredom. An anonymously forwarded CCTV stream and a series of steamy text screen shots to a Dispatch Journalist he knew,  and a message sent to her private email should be enough to silence her and protect Daesung. She would probably wind up ‘reflecting’ for a few years. It wasn’t enough -  his deep-seated protective drive demanded he put her away for good - but it would suffice.

Seunghyun stretched and stifled an ache before recrossing his legs and focusing back on his laptop screen. Something had piqued his interest in the hours he spent compiling his attack on Mina, leading down winding internet trails for hours on end.  BPO. The company kept coming up at the end of too many paths. It had started with her and went through the producer but it was bigger.  _ They were the company that bought Youngbae’s farm. _

He stomped on the ache Youngbae’s name brought and he checked to make sure the wall on the tether between him and Youngbae was still there. It was probably useless. It had failed before. He kept it in place. 

There were other ties, the one to Hyunseung was baffling. Disturbing. Seunghyun thought of the petty theif. Hyunseung seemed more and more unhinged each time they met, his mind wandering, fractured, distracted. He should tell Jiyong. 

He flicked from his computer to Seungri. It was early morning in Mexico. Seungri was walking with his partner and Seunghyun fell into step with them. 

“Seunghyun,” Seungri whispered. Junsu looked to Seungri, then to the air beside him and nodded. 

“Have you ever heard of BPO?” Seunghyun asked.

Seungri shook his head.

“International pharmaceutical company, with dozens of linked interests, subsidiaries, shadow companies.”

“Want me to look into them?” Seungri asked.

Seunghyun nodded. A cop’s resources could be helpful. “Discreet,” he cautioned.

“I can be discreet,” Seungri replied.

“Bullshit,” Junsu laughed, interjecting to provide cover. Seungri couldn’t very well talk to himself in public. 

“I need to know if there are ties to you, Jiyong. There are ties to Youngbae and Daesung.”  _ And Hyunseung. _

Seungri furrowed his brows. “And you?” He asked.

Seunghyun nodded. The trio turned a corner. “A general I took out - 4 months ago.” Seungri knew enough to connect the dots. Four months since the op that ended with Youngbae and a broken leg.  “He was blocking legislation for production of certain drugs in Korea. BPO has ties to my superiors. They wanted him out.” Seunghyun shrugged. He didn’t play politics. 

“Three of six,” Seungri said. “What does it mean?”

Seunghyun shrugged again. “I don’t like patterns.” A wave of protective anger rolled through their bond. Seunghyun hated threats to his cluster. They were  _ his _ . 

“I’ll see what I can find,” Seungri promised. 

Seunghyun nodded and flicked to Jiyong. He was half-asleep, purple hair peeking above bulky blankets; he only worked and slept now. Fashion week was close. He poked at the largest bump and Jiyong’s  limbs flailed to pull him into bed. He fell in gracefully, slender arms wrapping tight around him. A warm nose nuzzled at his cheek. Seunghyun grunted still irritated at Jiyong’s behavior the night Jason went back to Daesung.

“Don’t lie, sweetums, you know this feels good,” Jiyong said, squeezing Seunghyun for good measure. Touch had never felt good - not after his sister died. With his cluster it was different, though. Their touch was soothing, a balm. He sometimes longed to touch them, craved their scents, ached - Youngbae’s gentle face loomed in his mind.

“He’s waiting for you, you know,” Jiyong said.

“Stop looking in my head.”

“Can’t help it.” Jiyong shuffled around, pulling at the covers to better cover the two of them.

“I didn’t come to talk about  _ him _ .”

“What if  _ I _ want to talk about him?” Jiyong smiled and he looked sharp. 

“Your show is coming up.” Seunghyun would not be deterred. He felt a push at the edges of his mind and he narrowed his eyes at Jiyong. 

“Fine, why do you want to talk about my show?”

“It’s in Paris.”

“Yes, I know.” Jiyong’s eyes rolled around and Seunghyun wanted to shake him serious. He let his irritation wash out over him. Jiyong sighed and sat up. “Ok, ok my show it’s in Paris in a couple weeks. I’m amazed I’m awake right now because I only went to sleep 2 hours ago and I don’t know how long it’d been since the last time but yeah I’m showing in Paris. What?!”

“You need to go see Hyunseung.”

Jiyong pulled a face. “I can go see Hyunseung whenever I want, I could go to him right now why do I have to see him in Paris?”

Seunghyun pierced Jiyong with his eyes, intractable.

“Seunghyun, I’m not going to have time. It’s going to be a mad dash when I’m there getting everything ready for the show, I’m going to be a wreck as is, and then I’m going to have to fly straight back the very next morning because that’s when the stupid booking agent booked the flight because she’s a fucking idiot and -” Jiyong broke off as Seunghyun’s arm gripped his shoulder hard.

“Jiyong, you  _ have _ to go see Hyunseung.” Seunghyun chafed at his inability to find words for what he felt. He let the intensity, the unease coiled around his heart slip through the link between them. Jiyong gasped and Seunghyun knew he’d made his point. “There is something wrong with Hyunseung, you have to go see him.”

“But what is wrong with him?”

“Ba-ae-” Seunghyun tripped over the name. “Bae noticed it first but there’s something wrong when I visit him. Something different. Something not like the rest of you.”

Jiyong looked bewildered and shrugged.

“Ask B-bae.” Seunghyun ignored Jiyong’s eyes as he tripped over the name again. “There’s something wrong. I’ve found things.” Seunghyun tried to find the words to explain. “There are links to a company and some of us, and the company is-” He broke off to send his unease at Jiyong. “The company is suspicious. I don’t like it.”

Seunghyun lived on his instinct. Training and isolation and years spent in the fringes had honed it sharp. When his gut tugged, he followed.

“Ok Seunghyun, ok.” Jiyong reached for him and pulled them back down to bed. “I will try.”

“I will move your flight.”

“How?” But the word trailed off and Jiyong shrugged, not really expecting an answer, simply trusting that Seunghyun would do what Seunghyun did.

“So about Bae.”

“Fuck off, Jiyong,” Seunghyun snarled but didn’t return to Seoul.

“Aww, cupcake,” Jiyong mocked then sighed. “Fine then, shut up and keep me warm. I need like 2 more hours.”

Seunghyun nodded and wrapped himself around Jiyong. He didn’t sleep, just watched Jiyong drift off for as long as their bond would let him. 

Thoughts of Youngbae threatened to intrude, memories and affection. It would be so easy to reach out, to roll over and find Youngbae, surrounded by the children from the daycare. He could go right then and watch Youngbae, maybe chopping firewood for old Mrs. Cho… with his shirt off despite the fall chill, the exertion slicking his body. 

Jiyong’s hand slipped from his waist down to between his legs, actually startling Seunghyun with a vice grip on his cock. “I am not going to do anything about this,” Jiyong hissed, “so quit thinking or go find Youngbae.”

Seunghyun grunted but shifted both thoughts and body, loathe to leave the warmth of Jiyong’s bed. Jiyong sighed and curled into him. Seunghyun watched the light shift in the room and plotted.

 

Eventually he had to return to Seoul. Jiyong promised to visit him in a few hours to coach him through his stretches but doctors appointments couldn’t be avoided. And he figured it was time for a move and a new cover, now that the cast was off. He spent the evening wandering from apartment block to apartment block, perusing brochures and chatting up leasing agents. He’d never put this much effort into a relocation.

He toyed with reinventing himself as the scion of a well-to-do family. Not a chaebol but he wanted something a bit more spacious than a rooftop shack. There were funds he could access, and until his handler contacted him he was left to his own devices. He toyed with the idea of moving to a sleepy fishing village. Youngbae always talked about the sea.

No. There were reasons he did not reach out to Youngbae. 

Still, he thought as he wandered through Seoul, a nice apartment in Hapjeongdong would allow him the luxury of furniture, clothing, the trappings of wealth. He was being ridiculous, pretending he wanted anything more than to show off for the poor country boy that he’d never invite to this fantasy home, would never show off for in imagined suits or sip expensive wine with from beautiful, fragile glasses.

He hitched his backpack, resolving to march into the leasing office of the first drab, grey, nondescript apartment block he could find and put money down on the first available furnished unit. He began muttering under his breath, training his tongue to halting Korean, inflecting it with an American accent. He was just in from the states, looking for a place for a few months months while working. 

 

His leg ached as he stepped back onto the sidewalk, hand clutched at the apartment brochures, but he bowed to the old lady waving excitedly from the leasing office window. She bowed again, he bowed again; he cursed his too-pretty face. Refusing to get locked in an endless loop of bows, Seunghyun spun on his heel and marched down the street, tossing the brochures into the waste bin beside the bus stop where he waited for his way home. 

Seunghyun set his shoulders to a casual slump but his eyes raked up and down the street, cataloguing the people and cars as they sped by. His attention turned to the shops lining either side of the road and froze, regarding a large blue and white logo. The graphics indicated it as a packaging company but he recognized the logo from his research into BPOs subsidiaries. 

He zipped open his backpack and reached for the folder where he kept a stack of resumes. Thumbing through them, he pulled out one that looked relevant and walked across the street.

“Hello, welcome to Unlimited Packaging!” The woman behind the reception desk was pretty in a plastic, overworked kind of way but her eyes were sharp.

“Uh, yes,” Seunghyun stammered and bowed to a forty-five degree. “Yes, I am new here and looking for work.” He let his Americanized accent thicken.

“Oh you’ve come from the States.”

“Yes, I was born here but lived there for many years,” he said, stepping tentatively closer to the desk and looking at her through his lashes. He had no care for his face but it was a powerful tool in this image obsessed city. The receptionist blushed satisfactorily and he stood a little straighter. 

He placed his resume on the high top of her desk. “I am looking for work. I understand you are a shipping company?”

“Yes, sir.” The woman stood and bowed, fingers reaching for his resume, their tips brushing his as they slid the sheet off the desk. He smiled at her. She simpered and looked at his resume. “Well, we are hiring. And good, you put your photo on the resume. So many foreigners have no idea how to put one of these together.” She rolled her eyes, catching her tongue between her teeth. 

“I am a hard worker, Choi Eun Ji Ssi,” Seunghyun said, reading her name from the placard on the desk. Her grin turned rapturous. “I would work really, really hard for you.” He let his voice drop down deep in his chest. 

“Oh, well-” She was nearly fanning herself. Inwardly, Seunghyun imagined dismembering her. He smiled back. He heard a snicker over his shoulder and felt Seungri next to him. 

“Min Hong Gi  _ Ssi _ ,” Eun Ji said, “I will be  _ sure _ to pass along your resume.”

He leaned his elbow onto her desk as she returned to her seat. “Perhaps I should come by tomorrow? To see how it goes?”

“Oh yes, please.” She placed the resume into a blank folder. “I am certain they will consider you favorably.”

Seungri’s snickers turned into a snort and Seunghyun felt pleasure tickling the back of his mind. He bowed and feigned a sigh as he backed out of the lobby. 

He stood on the street, fishing for his sunglasses, looking away from Unlimited Packaging.

“Oh my God,” Seungri said, looking behind Seunghyun at the receptionist, “she’s fanning herself.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Seungri shrugged. “We’re just patrolling and that felt like something worth watching.”

Seunghyun adjusted his backpack and set off for his bus stop. 

“You’re limping Choi,” Seungri said. Seunghyun ignored him. Silence stretched between them as Seunghyun settled on a bench to wait. “Is this worth watching?” He muttered at Seungri.

“Youngbae-” 

Seunghyun shut himself down, blanking his mind and closing his eyes. He centered himself, pushing out all feedback from Seungri. It was his trick - his wall. He couldn’t keep them from coming but - drifting - in a blank haze seemed to make it harder for them to stay around. Either that or it bored them. He lost track of time but eventually Seungri left.

He didn’t know if the tactic would work on Youngbae. Youngbae had never pushed in hard enough for him to need to try. 

At the thought of Youngbae his heart ached. He opened his eyes and stood and began walking home. 

 

His leg was agony as he walked the narrow stairs up to his roof-top unit. He would have to stay off it for a couple days. 

A shock tripped up his spine as he reached the roof. He felt like a live wire. Someone had been on his roof. He slowed, every step falling whisper-soft, as he made his way to the door. He could feel the roof trembling with steps rippling out from his apartment. He crouched and reached for the potted plants along the parapet. Sliding his hand behind one he brought out the gun he kept in its false-bottom. He flicked the safety off and reached for his door handle. 

“It’s me, Seunghyun.” The door opened and Youngbae stood there, looking down at him. Seunghyun froze his face into a blank mask. “You aren’t losing your touch, I  _ felt  _ you,” Youngbae explained. 

Seunghyun stood, wanting his eyes to glare at Youngbae, for being here, for being real and not a projection, for standing before him in the warm, breathing flesh. He wanted to push at Youngbae but his hands froze on the scratchy fabric of his sweater and hands cupped his face. 

Seunghyun gasped. He’d forgotten the intensity - what it felt like to touch and be touched by Youngbae. He fell into Youngbae’s mind as easy as breathing. He was himself, being touched. He was Youngbae, touching. He was both of them, neither. They were one as they breathed and looked into one another.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, spoke into his own mind - into Youngbae’s.

“I don’t care.”

Lips, his lips, Youngbae’s lips, touched. Kissing Youngbae was the sweetest release he’d ever known and he drowned in it, possessing, possessed. 

“You hurt,” Youngbae whispered against his skin. Seunghyun shoved him back into the tiny, freezing apartment. He remembered the feeling of the others, the rest of their cluster, weeks ago when they’d bonded together.  _ Fucked _ , he tried to make the word bitter but there was no hiding in his mind, not with Youngbae pressed against him. He wanted to feel jealousy, anger. He wanted detachment. 

Youngbae moaned and fell back into the bed, pulling Seunghyun atop him. Seunghyun felt the weight of his own loneliness, his disconnection. He remembered the cresting waves of the cluster’s pleasure as it surged through him, that day weeks ago. The pulse of their orgasms as they wrapped themselves in each other. He remembered how he’d kept himself away, apart, while Jiyong taunted him for his cowardice. He remembered focusing on the feeling of Youngbae coming. He remembered savoring the pleasure of Youngbae’s release as the cluster consumed him. Reveling in it, missing it.

“I’m here, now,” Youngbae said, as he trailed kisses down Seunghyun’s neck. Seunghyun braced arms on either side of his head, sighing as Youngbae’s thighs parted, calves slotting at the juncture of his hips. Seunghyun’s heart clenched painfully, at least he thought it was his, he was perhaps a little too aware of Youngbae’s heart. He shifted to pull back.

“No, you should  _ not  _ stop,” Youngbae said. “No, I am not going to leave. I’m going to stay here.” He pressed another kiss into Seunghyun’s skin as he pushed him up to his knees and sat to strip off his top. “It’s just you and me, none of the others. You and me and this.” A hand slid down Seunghyun’s chest to grab at his cock. 

Seunghyun groaned and rocked into the pressure of Youngbae’s hand. “I shouldn’t have let you go, Seunghyun. I shouldn’t have let you push me away. I should have come a long time ago.”

“I blocked you.”

“Do you really think you could stop me?” Youngbae laughed and pushed his consciousness into Seunghyun. He felt himself hovering, at the back of his mind and he watched his own body strip itself from his shirt, slither out of his pants. His hands moved to cup and caress his thickened cock sheathed in thin cotton. Frantic, Seunghyun gaped. “You can’t really keep me out, Seunghyun,” Youngbae whispered with his own mouth as his mind sank back into his own body. “But I won’t do that again,” he promised and Seunghyun moved forward into his own mind, possessing himself again. 

“I don’t deserve you.” Seunghyun wielded his memory like a weapon, the image of him standing over a man in a dark, dank room, Hyunseung hovering just behind him. Lips pressed against his forehead, arms pressed him tight. Warmth enveloped him, rolling off Youngbae in waves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” Youngbae repeated. 

_ I don’t deserve you. _ Seunghyun whispered the thought into Youngbae’s mind. 

_ I shouldn’t have let you go _ . Youngbae repeated back, rolling them and pinning Seunghyun to the sheets. Youngbae knelt, spreading Seunghyun’s legs ungracefully, over his narrow bed, his left leg threatening to fall off completely. Youngbae slid a hand down his body, fingers trailing over the bare skin of his side, his hip. A small hand gripped his thigh and brought the leg up, crooking it to wrap around Youngbae’s back. 

Youngbae leaned down onto one arm to kiss across Seunghyun’s cheek. He dipped his head and trailed his tongue over the edge of Seunghyun’s ear, bringing a familiar shudder to Seunghyun’s spine.  _ You remembered _ , Seunghyun thought.

“I remember every moment we’ve ever spent together.” 

Youngbae rolled his hips down and moaned into Seunghyun’s ear. His skin felt like fire. “The cast is off,” Youngbae said. It sounded like a promise. The hand still on his thigh moved, sliding to the inside of his leg. It came to rest on the taut tendon where his thigh joined his body. His balls were pulled tight. 

Youngbae’s hand flexed before sliding up, palm skimming over the ripples of his abdomen, his chest. He could feel Youngbae’s appreciation for the honed perfection of his body, his musculature.  _ A weapon _ , he thought,  _ crafted by men for a purpose. _ .

“Beautiful,” Youngbae pressed the word into the skin of his neck. A flush of heat flared up his chest to connect through overheated skin with Youngbae’s lips. The hand sliding up his body traced his jaw, up into his hair. His head was pulled so his eyes were forced to meet Youngbae’s.

“I love you, Seunghyun.” He said.  _ And I don’t care about anything else but this. _ Youngbae kissed him again as the words reverberated in his mind.

He lowered down and Seunghyun could feel the dripping hardness of his own erection pressed between them. The head of his cock had pushed free of the band of his underwear as they frotted together. He could feel it on his stomach, he felt it on Youngbae’s as he rocked his hips again. He was wet and aching, and the sweat and precome between them were mixing, slicking them. 

Fingers tangled in his hair and he could feel Youngbae’s cock, trapped by soft-worn jeans, grinding down against his own. Youngbae’s thighs pushed his ass up until it was half in Youngbae’s lap. Their thrusts shifted them until Youngbae’s erection could press along the open cleft of his ass. 

Youngbae leaned back, hands grabbing for his underwear but Seunghyun stopped him. He brought up his hands to cup Youngbae’s face. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. Youngbae’s smile was bright, heart-breaking, and his. 

Seunghyun let his hands fall, tracing down Youngbae’s own perfect chest. They dropped to his jeans and unfastened the button, freeing him deftly. He’d seen Youngbae’s cock before, felt it. The pulsing need of desire that raged through Youngbae was familiar and Seunghyun felt it filling the empty portions of his soul.

Youngbae reached again for his underwear and Seunghyun shifted to ease them off. Youngbae was careful of his stiff leg, as he pulled them off and dropped them off the side of the bed with the rest of their clothing. 

With a swift move, Youngbae removed his pants and underwear. They looked at one another. Seungyun’s eyes basked in the sight of Youngbae bare, exposed. This was as far as their passion had driven them in the months since they’d first met. 

Midnight kisses and passionate grinding of partially clothed bodies encumbered by a cast had not prepared him for the sight of Youngbae, naked and aroused and aching for him. He could feel Youngbae’s need,obliterating his thoughts pulsing under his skin in an intoxicating counterpoint to Seunghyun’s own.  

Seunghyun pulled and Youngbae moved atop him, between his legs, body pulled so as to avoid putting pressure on Seunghyun’s right leg. 

“I want you,” Youngbae whispered. Seunghyun nodded, overwhelmed. He let his legs fell wider and reached for one of Youngbae’s hands, entwining their fingers. 

“I want you,” Seunghyun echoed. He brought Youngbae’s hand to his mouth, their fingers still wound together, to suckle and lick at them, laving them with his tongue. He felt he would die if Youngbae’s eyes left his. 

Eyes locked, he brought Youngbae’s hand between them, guiding it to grip them, cocks pressed together in their hands. “I want you,” he repeated and he began to stroke.


	17. Daesung

Jason was warm, a little (well, not so little) sheet-toasting furnace. Daesung had discovered that after their first delicious night together. He’d imagined waking up next to Jason countless times, but truth was so much better than fantasy. Part of him still didn’t quite believe that it was real. 

 

“Morning, Sunshine,” Jason growled in English. Daesung smiled and burrowed into the sheets, relishing the weight of Jason’s arm slung carelessly over him. His voice was rough in the mornings, velvet dragged over gravel. It was delicious. Daesung tried to burn the sound of it into his mind. Turning, he pressed his lips to Jason’s too-hot skin. He apparently could not stop himself from then pressing more kisses to Jason’s cheek, jaw, throat-. His ears ached from the sound of Jason’s low, moaning growls. 

“Mmmm wanna go?” Jason offered, arching into Daesung’s kisses and rolling his hips suggestively, morning erection straining against Daesung’s hip. Daesung nodded and replied, “no”. A few days of respite had been lovely but he couldn’t hide from his career forever. Seunghyun had promised he’d deal with Mina but there was still his movie, promotions, his endorsement deals, his upcoming Korean release and concert tours. He groaned and tried to crawl under Jason.

“Work?” Jason laughed. Daesung nodded. Warm feet pressed under his legs and began to push gently. “Come on Idol-nim,” Jason taunted. Daesung pulled a face and groaned. “You keep that up and I’m going to fuck you, Daedae,” he whispered and Daesung’s stomach did a flip.

“Fine,” Daesung laughed and tossed the blankets off off both of them. Jason yelped delightfully and Daesung felt smug self-satisfaction as he stuffed his feet into slippers and shrugged on his robe. 

“Hey, just cuz you gotta go do the Star thing doesn’t mean I need to get my ass out of bed.” Jason grabbed for the sheets and buried himself back in the bed. Daesung reached for them and tugged. “Blow you in the shower?” He asked, with his most innocent smile. Jason smiled back and ran for the restroom. 

 

“Dae,” Jason nudged him with his knee, “Dae.” 

Daesung looked up from where he was stowing his satchel under his first class seat to Jason seated next to him. “What’s up?” He asked as the stewardess at the front of the plain explained that, though it was a short flight from Tokyo to Seoul, she still had to review the aircraft safety features. Daesung let her voice recede to a low buzz as he looked at the phone Jason pointed at him. 

“My Korean is still rusty but, is that what I think it is?” Daesung grabbed for the phone and read the headline.  _ Korea’s Leading Lady Caught Cheating with Boyfriend’s Director _ . 

“Holy shit, he did it,” Daesung gasped. 

“Who, Seunghyun?” Jason whispered. Daesung nodded and scrolled through the Dispatch article, the phone in his pocket began to buzz with notification after notification. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” a polite voice said from over his shoulder in crisp Japanese. A stewardess leaned over to bow at him. “All cellular devices need to be placed in Airplane mode for the duration of the flight.” Daesung smiled at her and returned Jason’s phone, reaching for his own. He put it in Airplane mode and looked through his existing notifications, messages from his friends, managers, his mother. The news was exploding in Korea. 

“He did it,” Daesung said again, in awe. 

“So what does this mean?” Jason asked. Daesung shrugged. The Korean public were going to rip her to shreds. It only remained to be seen if Daesung would be taken down with her. 

Daesung settled back into his armchair mind buzzing in helpless anxiety until a steady hand covered the arm on the rest between him and Jason. Daesung met Jason’s dark eyes, solid, loving and so very real. “We’ll be ok,” Daesung said and Jason nodded. 

Daesung turned to stare blindly out the plane window.

 

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” Daesung froze, looking down at Youngbae and Seunghyun tangled on the tiniest bed he’d ever seen. He moved to blink away when Youngbae stretched out a hand to grab him and Seunghyun cracked a lazy eye. “Um,” Daesung said. Youngbae grinned up from where he was pinned between Seunghyun and the wall and yanked. Daesung fell into bed with them. 

“Hey, I’m not gonna fit!”

“Daesung, you aren’t really here,” Youngbae said. “You’ll fit.” Somehow he did, nestled in Seunghyun’s exposed side. Seunghyun closed his eyes and looked like he was going back to sleep.

“Seunghyun,” Daesung started. He licked his lips. “Did you - about Mina-”

“Yes,” Seunghyun said. There was no outward sign, but pride rolled off him in waves, pride and a little bit of fierce possessiveness.

“Oh,” Daesung said. Youngbae rested a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Um, so, she knows? About me and Jason. She knows about me and Jason and um, how are you going to keep her from, um…”

“Retaliating?” Seunghyun asked. His eyes were still closed but his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk. He might as well be rolling on the floor laughing. 

“She was embezzling money,” Seunghyun said. “I sent her a message when I sent the dirt to Dispatch. She takes the fall for the scandal, shuts up and doesn’t spend 7 to 10 years in prison.”

Youngbae giggled and Daesung wanted to join him. Seunghyun shrugged but they both could feel his pleasure. “So,” Daesung said, fighting for a straight face, “that’s it?”

Seunghyun nodded. 

“Wow.” Daesung lay in awe.

“Don’t be so smug, you’ll hurt yourself,” Youngbae chided with a laugh and Seunghyun’s self satisfaction increased. “God you’re insufferable.” Youngbae looked to Daesung. “I used to find him intimidating, you know.” Daesung rolled his eyes. 

“Where are you?” Youngbae asked.

“Flying to Seoul,” Daesung answered. “I need to get back to work. No more hiding.” 

 

There was a mob of press to greet them when they landed at Incheon aiport. He’d been through press-mobs and fan-mobs before but even this was a bit unsettling. Fans vied with reporters and professional cameramen fended off the fansite noonas in an unruly mass of shouts and bodies. He tried to apologize to the poor, overworked airport security but settled for ducking into his company van as quick as possible. 

He rode alone, separating from Jason right after landing so the other man could go ahead, unhindered by Daesung’s throng. He griped mentally at Seunghyun, wishing he’d at least had warning about the news leak so he could have kept his schedule on lockdown.  _ Beggars can’t be choosers,  _ he chided to himself. 

When he finally arrived at his villa the door was unlocked and Jason was already settling in. Daesung hadn’t bothered to call ahead so his the house was still shuttered and packed up, large white cloths draped over his furniture, fridge empty and power off. 

“Hey,” Jason said as he struggled with the large drape over the sofa, “You - call - your mom?” He yanked at the sheet stuck to the edge of the couch and stumbled backwards. Daesung slid forward and wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him up. “Smooth,” Jason teased, looking over his shoulder and pecking Daesung on his cheek.

“I called her on the ride over here.”

“Are you going to tell her?” Jason asked.

“About us?”

Jason nodded. Daesung tightened the arm around his waist, fingers splaying to rub over his ribs. “Mmmhmm,” he said, dropping his mouth to press into the curve of Jason’s neck. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“You think that will be ok?”

Daesung shrugged. With all the upheaval in his life there was no way to tell. “I think she wants me be to be happy?”

“What happens if it’s not ok?”

“I don’t know Jae,” Daesung whispered. “I’m just sick of lies.”

Warm hands pressed against Daesung’s forearms, squeezing him tight before Jason turned in Daesung’s arms. “Ok Dae.” Jason’s eyes were wide and soft. His hands moved to cup Daesung’s face. 

“Well if worse comes to worst, I’m out. Move back to the States with me and I’ll make you a kept man.” He smiled and pulled Daesung into a kiss. “I’ll play for anyone who’ll take me and you can stay home and bake and we’ll get a dog.”

Daesung made a face and laughed. “I can’t bake.”

“Ok, I’ll bake.”

There was a rattle from the front door and Daesung froze. Jason stepped back, smoothly disentangling from Daesung’s arms and moving back towards the still-draped furniture. 

“Daesung-ah.” The voice of Madam Kang echoed from the entry. Daesung rushed forward to pull extra slippers from the cabinet by the door. 

“Ma,” he said, kneeling to drop the slippers by her feet. He put her hand on his shoulder to take her weight as she changed shoes. 

“Ah, Daesung-ah, child, come here.” She pulled him up into a hug. “I know why you haven’t called but still,” she smacked his back with the flat of her palm, “you should have called me.”

“I know,” he said, feeling a bit ashamed. He walked with her, into the living room, pausing at her side as she registered they weren’t alone. 

Jason stood, behind a sofa, folding drapery, looking tentative. His mother looked up at him, confused as to why his guitarist was standing in his living room. 

“Um, ma-” Daesung started.

“Jason,” Mama Kang said, inclining her head in greeting. “Daesung?” She looked to him for an explanation.

His mind was a complete blank. There were no words to explain. He crossed the room to Jason’s side, intertwined their fingers and turned to face his mother. Daesung was terrified, but forced himself to meet her eyes, his stomach in knots.

“Mama-” he said, the voice of a child pleading for his mother’s love.

There was shock in her eyes, but not disgust. She breathed, then breathed again. Turning she sat on the covered couch. 

“Daesungah?” She waved a hand out, calling him to her. 

He moved, pulling Jason with him, to sit next to her. His mother’s hands took his free ones. “Mama, I’m in love.”

“With Jason-” she said.

“Yes,” Daesung said. He looked to Jason and basked in the calm warmth of his eyes. “Yes.”

“And Mina?” She asked.

“We’ve been over a while. She’s been cheating for a while but even before.”

“I knew you weren’t happy, son, but-”

“Mama,” he tugged on her hands and she looked at him. He tried to put all the joy Jason gave him into his eyes, his smile. “Mama I’m in love, and I’m happy.”

“Ah, son.” She patted his head and the tension fled his body. The familiar feel of her love enveloped him. “Son, son.” Daesung looked at her in question. “I’ve wondered for years if you  liked boys too, and if you loved this one over here.” She looked at Jason. “And you!” She waved a finger at Jason. “ _ You _ have been obvious for at least the last year.”

Taken aback, Daesung slumped back into the couch. “But, how?”

“I thought you wanted to be with Mina and maybe it was just a crush. I thought it was just-” she trailed off then grinned. “Also, Kim told me.”

“Kim!” Daesung shouted, betrayed.

“Don’t be angry with her. I put her job on the line.”

Daesung’s mother was nothing if not ruthless. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know how hard it is,” she said. “This isn’t America or Europe. It is Korea. And being a singer is all you’ve ever wanted. I wasn’t going to push if you were happy with Mina.”

Reality threatened to crush him but Jason put a hand on his knee and squeezed. 

 

His mom stayed a while, puttering about setting up his kitchen and making them dinner while Daesung and Jason set up the rest of the house. 

“Why do you have so many shoes?” Jason complained as they worked their way through Daesung’s closet.

“Work,” Daesung explained.

“Uh, huh,” Jason eyed him levelly and held up a particularly atrocious pair of purple snakeskin boots. Daesung snatched them and flushed. 

“Work,” he repeated and placed them on the shelf along with another half-dozen pairs. “Occupational hazard,” he mumbled. He loved the shoes. And the scarves. “Designer gifts are part of the territory,” he said, defensively. 

Jason’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him, a low growl reverberating up through his chest to echo through Daesung. Lips pressed against his temple. “You’re adorable,” Jason said. “Just want you to know.” 

Tears stung at Daesung’s eyes. “I never knew love could be like this,” he whispered and pressed his lips to Jason’s forearm where it crossed his chest. The muscles of Jason’s arms flexed, squeezing Daesung tight for a moment before letting go.

A thought occurred to Daesung. “You know, we’ve never talked about what happens now.”

“Now?” Jason echoed, opening the next box to reveal a pile of silk shirts. 

“I know you and the band have an apartment here-”

“Oh,” Jason said, “now. Now here in Seoul.”

“Real life,” Daesung whispered.

“Ya!” Daesung’s mother shouted from the kitchen. They started and Daesung stood. Jason took one of his hands and gave a squeeze before stepping back to let Daesung walk ahead. 

“Eat,” Mama Kang said, beaming at them at the head of a truly impressive spread. 

“Ma, how many people you cook for?” Daesung asked.

Mama Kang tutted then pulled back a chair. “Jason, here.”

Daesung was vaguely unsettled. Somehow he felt he’d stepped into an alternate world. The knowledge that he could step into the lives of different men from around the world was nowhere near as unsettling as his mother in this moment. 

“Oh sit down, Daesung-ah, are you a potted plant?” Mama Kang said. Jason sat in the chair she’d offered and she scooted him in.

“No, it’s just-” Daesung searched for words. “I just told you I was gay, and you made dinner.” His mother’s face softened. 

“Sit,” she said again but there was something in her tone. He crossed and sat beside Jason then watched his mother as she sat across from them. She took up her chopsticks and picked through the stack of beef. Two made the cut and she gave one to each man in turn, Jason first. 

Jason ate, eyes darting from Daesung to his mother then back again. Daesung poked at his meat, then reluctantly ate. 

“Do you remember Hiroshi?” Mama Kang said, speaking in slow Korean so Jason could follow along. 

“From Z-Z?” Daesung asked. It had been years since he’d thought of the group where he’d first had his start, much less their tragic youngest member. Hiroshi’s suicide had been the first step in the dissolution of the group. 

Mama Kang nodded then crossed her hands on the table, leaving her food untouched. “He was gay.”

Daesung shook his head, taken back. “I didn’t know that.” He hadn’t. Hiroshi had always been a quiet, intense boy, given to brooding and isolation. None of the other members had been able to connect with him very well. “You were friends with his mom,” Daesung remembered. The two  _ had _ been incredibly close, walking the path of idol-parents hand in hand.

“Mrs. Kato told me - after.” Mama Kang said. “He’d left a note. She let me read it.” She wiped at the tears at her eyes. “He was in so much pain, Daesung-ah. And so alone.” Guilt swirled in Daesung’s chest and he found it impossible to swallow. 

“I didn’t know,” Daesung repeated. 

“No one did,” Mama Kang said. Jason’s thigh pressed against Daesung, a comforting warmth. “I helped Mrs. Kato, after. And then I worked. I started to watch the other trainees and idols.” She had, Daesung remembered. She’d always been a bit of a mother hen but after Hiroshi’s death she’d taken it upon herself to mother all Daesung’s label mates, setting up groups for the parents. “I didn’t want another Hiroshi. I didn’t want another child to feel alone with what he was,” she continued. “There are a few others at the company.”

“I-” How could he not have known? 

“Oh, stop,” Mama Kang said. “You’ve had plenty to occupy you. You didn’t need to know what your mother was up to.” She placed more food in front of him. “It didn’t need to concern you but, I’ve learned plenty since then. For one, you aren’t gay Daesung. You’re bisexual.” 

Beside him, Jason snorted.  _ Trust Mama to school me _ , he thought. 

“You like girls don’t you?” Mama Kang asked, making her point and Jason’s snort became a chuckle. 

“Well-”

“You do,” she informed him. “Bisexual, then.” She continued, “I talked to the manager of the condo. You’ve leased the unit next door through one of your secondary accounts.” The mad woman wasn’t making any sense. “I figured you two hadn’t thought much past tonight and the bedroom.” Jason gave up the fight and let loose with full throated laughter. “You can move your things in when you are ready, Jason. It will all be for show, anyway.”

“When did you even have time for that!?” Daesung asked.

“While I was making dinner.” She said, as if it were nothing. As always, his mother had perfectly worked out his life. Daesung would be upset if she wasn’t so excellent at it. For her, it really was nothing.

“You two finish up.” There was a buzz from the front door. “I have a few more things to do before I leave.” She stood and excused herself to get the delivery.

“She’s your mother,” Jason said, accusingly around the last of his laughter.

Daesung could do nothing but eat.

 

Mama Kang returned in time to take over clean up and put-away, shooing the couple to the living room. “I’ll clean up, you have to work through a stack of endorsement offers.” She pointed at the bags she’d left on the coffee table when she arrived. 

“But, how am I getting offers?”

“The company loves you, all that cheated on sympathy,” Mama Kang said. “You’ve got a new album and movie coming out and the buzz is already good. Everyone wants you, Daesung.” She disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Daesung with his work.

Resigned, Daesung opened the bags and tried to get the energy to care about skin care products and beer brands. Jason curled up next to him, which made it a little worth it. “Are you really going to be here, always?” Daesung asked.

“Do you want me to go?” Jason asked in reply. 

Daesung reached an arm around his shoulders. “Never.” He made a face at the pile of offers. “I don’t want to do this.”

“This one,” Seunghyun’s voice said and Daesung looked to see the tall, brooding spy standing incongruously in his living room. Jason tensed in Daesung’s arms. 

“That one?” Daesung said, pulling at a bound stack. 

“I recognize that symbol,” Seunghyun explained.

“One of  _ them _ ?” Jason asked.

“Yeah,” Daesung answered. “Seunghyun.”

“This is weird,” Jason said.

“He says I should look at this one,” Daesung held up the offer. “He recognizes the company.”

“From where?” Jason took it from him and began leafing through it.

“They have ties to BPO, I think,” Seunghyun explained.

“Hacking BPO,” Daesung said. Jason looked at him, confused. “I’ll explain later.”

“It’s a skin care company,” Jason said. 

“Well I’m a slut for skin care,” Daesung deadpanned and Jason huffed his agreement.

“You’ll want to sign this one,” Seunghyun said. “Maybe we can use it to get access to more information.”

“I’m going to do this one,” Daesung said. “Any more you recognize?” He asked to Seunghyun, and  he spread the offers across the coffee table. Seunghyun picked at two more, also health and beauty related. 

“Subsidiaries,” Seunghyun said. “BPO is sketchy and connected to too many of us.” Seunghyun was filled with suspicion and anxiety.

“Ok.” Daesung agreed. These were companies that Seunghyun had linked to his new job.  “We doing this then?” Seunghyun gave him a curt nod then disappeared. 

“Well that was easy,” Jason said. “Is he still here?” 

Daesung shook his head. “They come and go quickly.”

“This is, seriously, bizarre,” Jason said. “Jiyong tried to explain it but still-”

“Alright, have you made your choice?” Mama Kang said, coming from the dining room. “Are these the ones you want?” She picked up the stack they’d made of the offers Seunghyun suggested. “Ok I’ll send these in.” Leaning down, she pecked Daesung’s brow then gave an affectionate pat of Jason’s shoulder. “Try to get  _ some  _ sleep tonight, you two.” Winking, she made her way to the front door. 

“Mamma,” Daesung said, standing. She smiled and waved him to her. Obeying, he went to her and let her hold him tight. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Daesung-ah, be happy.” 

“You’re lucky,” Jason said after the front door clicked behind Daesung’s mother. 

“I am,” Daesung agreed. 

“Bed?” Jason asked. Daesung nodded.

“Oh, my God,” Daesung said, in shock as they looked together at the bed in the master bedroom. Dozens upon dozens of red rose petals had been scattered over the sheets, and what must be a hundred candles lit every available surface, casting the room in a honey glow and sending tantalizing shadows over Jason’s skin.

“Well?” 

“I guess she does approve,” Daesung said.

 

Daesung’s 6 am alarm rang on his phone and he woke, cursing, to shut it off. 

“Call your mom.” 

Daesung scrunched his face and tried to swat whoever was speaking away. It wasn’t Jason; they needed to go. 

“Call your mom.”

“Don’t wanna,” Daesung whined and tried to get away into the bedsheets. There was a push and he recognized Seunghyun. “Go away.”

“You better be talking to the cluster,” Jason said. 

“Seunghyun wants me to call my mom,” Daesung whined.

“Why?” Jason rolled to spoon him.

“Don’t care,” Daesung said pointedly and snuggled into Jason.

“You need to tour SilkFace,” Seunghyun said.

“I need to tour the skin care company,” Daesung explained to Jason then lifted his head and opened his eyes to glare at Seunghyun. “Wait, why?” He closed his eyes from the needles of the rising sun and tried not to care. “I barely accepted the offer last night, I can’t get in today.”

“You need to get in. I found stuff. I need to get on the inside.”

Seunghyun’s urgency was an itch under Daesung’s skin. He felt the oppressive weight of  _ threat _ bearing down on his chest. It was a wonder Seunghyun wasn’t raving. Yeah, sleep wasn’t coming back. “Alright, fine.” Daesung threw off the covers to Jason’s yelps. 

 

It took another day but the company seemed to be enamoured with him, falling over themselves to let  _ Daesung _ tour their Seoul location. 

“Mr. Kang.” The gentle English pulled Daesung from where he looked out of the lobby's full height windows where, through the darkness the lights of the city twinkled in duplicate, sparkling off of the river. 

“Oh, yes, hi,” Daesung said as he met the eyes of the tall, white gentleman. He looked kind in a grandfatherly way, white hair slicked back and dark rimmed glasses framing blue eyes. The man smiled.

“Pleasure you could meet us, apologies for the time. I’m Dr. Matheson. Welcome to our facility.” Dr. Matheson smiled and Daesung’s stomach clenched tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 5 chapters left, boys and girls!! The plot has arrived. Thanks for sticking with me so far.


	18. Jiyong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting exciting!!!

Jiyong blinked awake at the darkness of his bedroom and felt vague confusion. Delicious tension rolled just under his skin. He recognized it now, as backwash of the emotions rippling from the bundle of sensations in his heart he’d labeled as his cluster. That’s what had pulled him out of his light sleep.

There had been disgust and mild annoyance that first time: when Daesung and Seungri had had pulled the cluster into their lovemaking. Since they had all first linked low-key arousal seeping through their bond had been common thanks to Youngbae and Seunghyun. Since the two idiots had finally consummated of their relationship - perhaps it was this bad because both of them were in the cluster. 

Jiyong rolled over and found himself pressed against Youngbae, Seunghyun leaning over him and their lips locked together in a desperate, never-ending kiss. He admired their stamina - and lung capacity. Pleasure rolled off of them, he pushed it aside and instead reveled in the emotions surrounding them: an aching love that lanced their hearts when they wrapped themselves in each other. It pierced Jiyong just as deep.

They broke off their kiss to gaze at him, eyes heavy lidded, expressions welcoming in the dim lights of the city illuminating Seunghyun’s roof-top room.

“Staying?” Seunghyun rumbled. Jiyong wrinkled his nose. Youngbae laughed and Seunghyun rolled his hips down and Jiyong felt the electric slides of their cocks over one another.

“Gross,” he whispered but he smiled when he said it. He watched as their attention turned back to one another. Youngbae lifted a hand and slowly down Seunghyun’s cheek, tracing his jaw, along his neck to his bare shoulder. There were no words for the emotions overwhelming him through Seunghyun’s bond. Jiyong swam in them, reveled in them, felt them mirrored in Youngbae. 

He could barely breathe, frozen, watching the pair watch each other. It was soul-healing.  _ Beautiful _ , he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and focused on the twin lights of Youngbae and Seunghyun within him. They were two halves made whole, a sun shining through their bond, pulling, filling and warming him. 

Smiling, he rolled back over into his own bed. The sensations and feelings swirling between Youngbae and Seunghyun came with him. 

His cluster only gave him a moment to revel as hard upon the heels of Seunghyun and Youngbae there was a spike from Daesung and, greedily, he chased it down. 

“You know, I can never tell,” Jason said just as Jiyong appeared on the bed beside Daesung, “if you’re horney because you want me or because someone in your little crew is gettin’ some.”

“Both?” Daesung said with a laugh. Jiyong settled back into the headboard, pressed alongside Daesung to look up at Jason standing at the door to the restroom. The light from the room of a veritable forest of candles set shadows dancing over Jason’s face.

“Between Seungri and the other two poor Jason’s gonna get a workout day and night,” Jiyong snickered and Daesung couldn’t help a snort. There was a powerful surge along their bond from Youngbae and Seunghyun and both the men on the bed gasped. 

“One of them here?” Jason asked.

“Do you mind?” Daesung’s body went taut with apprehension.

“Nah,” Jason said. He brought fingers up to toy at the top buttons of his shirt. “They might like a little show.”

“It’s Jiyong,” Daesung said.

“I thought you didn’t fly that way, boy,” Jason said to the air. His hands slid the halves of his dress shirt apart revealing his dark, sculpted body, tattooed and scarred and beautiful. Jiyong gave it an aesthetically appreciative nod but turned to focus on Daesung. 

“I like the emotions,” Jiyong whispered conspiratorially. Daesung echoed his words, relaying them to Jason. Daesung’s eyes were bright and his heart was thundering in his chest. He was beautiful, watching the man he loved strip himself bare.

“Vampire,” Jason teased. The bed shifted as he joined Daesung. 

Jiyong returned back to his own room, the sensations from Daesung washing over one side of him, echoing and ricocheting off those from Youngbae and Seunghyun on the other. He didn’t feel connection to his body, instead he seemed to float in the eternal space that separated and connected them all. 

Discovering this had been a revelation as, freed from the bodily functions he found vaguely disgusting, Jiyong could swim in the wake of the love and desire rolling off his cluster. It was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine. 

He lost all track of time, drifting, amorphous in space, soul absorbing the sensations; a heart existing only to feel. 

Seunghyun and Youngbae finished first, a crescendo that left him quivering, magnified as it rolled forth from two bodies. Their climaxes were not simultaneous but followed one after the other. The first a thundering wave washing over him, threatening to pull him into a dark abyss, but the soft rolling light of the second saved him, buoyed him up. 

Jiyong had a few moments to float atop the warm haze of their love  before the wave that was Daesung crashed over him, a bright shock of warm water, just shy of too hot. Contrasts to the cooling pool of Seunghyun and Youngbae. 

He emerged into his body gasping, aching and blissful. His breath was erratic, chasing the thundering of his heart. He ran hands over himself and was relieved to find himself unaroused. He watched the morning light emerge in dim hues of blue as his soul recovered. 

Trembling, he turned to Seungri. 

“Hey,” Seungri said. “Thought you’d show up.” Jiyong smiled. “They were good this morning, huh?” Seungri continued, and wiped his hand on a spare towel that he tossed to the floor under his couch. 

“Ewww,” Jiyong said but he didn’t leave.

“Jae will be here soon, do you want in?” Seungri asked. Gleefully, Jiyong dived into Seungri’s body. 

_ At some point it has to get less intense, right? _ Seungri asked.

_ God, I hope not, _ Jiyong replied. He felt Seungri snort deep inside. 

Their souls intertwined in Seungri’s body as they dozed, barely awake but just enough to stay connected. Slowly the light came in from the small window across the room and, like clockwork, Jaejoong emerged from the bedroom. He grunted a hello then climbed into the couch to settle over Seungri.

Comforting weight settled over Jiyong, and the warm, sleepy heat of Jaejoong enveloped him. 

_ He’s an amazing cuddler, _ Jiyong told Seungri.

_ Yeah, I guess,  _ Seungri replied.  _ It mostly is annoying, well, kinda annoying. _

_Liar, you know you love it but if you’re gonna be like that, go away and let me enjoy_ , Jiyong said. He mentally shushed Seungri and snuggled up into Jaejoong who groaned appreciatively and fell back asleep. Jiyong dragged lazy fingers up and down his bare spine, tracing the outlines of his tattoos, appreciating the contrast of their dark bold lines with the rich tone of his skin. He rubbed with the flat of his hand, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the soft tickling of Jaejoong’s breath on Seungri’s neck. Unconscious, Jaejoong’s body still responded, pulling Jiyong in tight into a satisfying crush.

_ Ew, warm fuzzies, _ Seungri crowed.

_ Shut up, you were the one yanking it before I got here, _ Jiyong said.

_ Look I don’t know how you do it but, fuck, if it isn’t intense when all three of them get going. I can’t help it. _

_ This is better,  _ Jiyong said.

_ Speak for yourself. _

Jiyong smiled.  _ I do. _

 

It was almost mid morning before Jiyong got out of his own bed. He tried to feel guilty but didn’t work too hard for it. There was a brief flash of pain as the memory of his father flitted through his mind in the shower but the high of the early morning love-cuddle fest killed it. He’d be riding it the rest of the day if past experience was any indication. 

“I know, I know, I know,” he chanted as he walked into the studio, waving off Seungyoon’s annoyed face. 

“You do realize that our flight leaves in like 12 hours and we gotta get packed up?” Seungyoon tisked at him. 

“Look, I had important things to do,” Jiyong said, trying for a lofty, detached air.

“Why do you look like you got laid?”

“Fuck off,” Jiyong whined and disappeared into his office to fish out his garment bags. He returned to Seungyoon pulling the collection off racks and lining them on the work tables. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Seungyoon said. 

“It is.” Jiyong felt a surge of pride. “It is,” he repeated. 

Halfway through packing Jinwoo waltzed in, coffee laden and beaming. Jiyong paused from boxing up shoes to smirk at Seungyoon, lost looking into Jinwoo’s eyes. “Hey,” he shouted, just for the joy of seeing them jump. They did, guiltily, then looked at him abashed.

“So when is the wedding?” Jiyong deadpanned.

“Can it!” Seungyoon said and Jinwoo turned a delightful shade of pink. Glaring at him, Seungyoon smacked a kiss on Jinwoo’s cheek. 

“Oh,” Jiyong giggled, “this is going to be delightful.” Jiyong grinned in anticipation at a week in Paris with a pair of new lovebirds. 

 

Packing and making their way to the airport was a blur. Jiyong was vaguely aware of Hyunseung’s presence flickering in and out around him, only long enough to leave an impression.

Hyunseung didn’t solidify until the 6th hour of the Trans-Atlantic leg of the flight. 

“You really comin’ to Paris?” Hyunseung settled into the empty seat beside him. Eyes gazing out over the moonlight shining off the ocean below. 

“For work,” Jiyong said softly under his breath so as not to bother any of the other passengers. Hyunseung nodded, hearing him.

“It’s going to be weird, seeing you.” Hyunseung fiddled with the armrest between them. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean.”

In the row ahead of them, Seungyoon reached up to turn off his reading light and leaned into Jinwoo.

“Do you think-” Hyunseung paused then turned to look at Jiyong. “Do you think you could help?”

“Hyunah?” Jiyong asked. 

Hyunseung nodded. “I swear I’m close but I’m worried.” He balled his hands into tight fists, skin going white over the knuckles. “Who knows what they’ve done to her. You might be helpful.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Jiyong said. The ache of Hyunseung’s longing tugged at him. “I will,” he promised, then sighed. “I’m going to be busy the first 5 days, though.”

“Work?” Hyunseung asked.

Jiyong dipped his head.

“I understand.”

“This,” Jiyong said with a wave, “is everything I’ve been working towards. This is huge.”

“I know,” Hyunseung said and Jiyong knew that Hyunseung truly understood.. His hand ghosted over Jiyong’s arm. “Thank you.” Then he was gone. Not for the first time Jiyong was struck by the abrupt nature of Hyunseung’s comings and goings. 

 

Fashion week in Paris was a blur anchored by Seungyoon and Jinwoo. And Kiko. Kiko - she was a vision clad in green silk stalking down Jiyong’s debut runway. He could barely stand to look at her. Her flawless skin glowed against the billowing waves of fabric that swirled about her. The slits of the skirt parted with her every step, providing peeks at her legs, fleeting hints of sensuality. 

Jiyong gazed, heart in throat, at his Venus emerging from the sea. All the anxiety, nausea, fear of the past few months fell away. He felt a strange sense of disassociation. He could not recall the feel of the fabric of that gown in his hands; his fingers did not remember the endless stitches they’d sown though. The memory of his concept sketch seemed dim, drawn by another Jiyong a lifetime ago.

“Wow,” Seungri gasped from beside him. “You’re killing it out there.” 

Jiyong smiled. Sure enough, the hard to please Parisians were standing, hands pressed to thunderous applause as Kiko left the stage. A brief wave of disorientation washed over him and for a moment he was standing at the foot of a hospital bed - machines keeping the time of his father’s last moments. 

Jiyong swayed for a moment, backstage but the memory of Youngbae’s arms around him anchored him.  _ I did it, old man. _

Pride surged forth through five hearts - his soulmates. Their joy was worth more than the opinion of a sad, dying old man. 

“You’d better get out there!” Seungyoon cheered as he waved, rounding the models back up for another pass at the adoring crowd. Seungri’s hand pressed at his back, propelling him forward. Kiko trotted to the front of the line to grasp his hand, interlacing their fingers and smiling at him.  

_ I’m really here. This is reality _ . A standing ovation at his Paris Fashion Week debut. Looking into the crowd he saw the spectres of Seungri, Daesung and Youngbae grinning down at him, hands clapping as hard as the rest. 

Euphoria propelled him  around the stage and off into the laughing arms of his models. 

“Drinks!” Seungyoon shouted and Jiyong laughed. Drinks it would be.

 

It was some time past too-late and not quite too-early and the part was still going strong at the sleek villa Jinwoo had scored for them in a moderately respectable suburb of Paris. A few models had followed them back from their Grand Tour of Parisian bars, to cap off the night with more drinks. The patio was strewn with bare limbs, slack in the moonlight as people collapsed into sleep wherever they landed. 

“You’re so drunk,” Kiko giggled as she snuggled into Jiyong on a deep white couch overlooking the patio. 

“I am.” Jiyong agreed and drank more. 

“I’m drunk.”

“You are.”

They watched together as Jinwoo and Seungyoon sucked face, leaning against the back wall of the villa, egged on by the few die-hards left. 

“So, it’s over.” Kiko’s head rolled about on Jiyong’s shoulder, tipping his world precariously. He slung an arm around her, steadying them both. “You did it,” she whispered into his arm.

“I did it,” he said, grinning ear to ear. 

“How does it feel?”

“Not real?” He paused to contemplate his glass. “I don’t know really.” He took a drink. “I think my dad died while you were walking the runway.” It was a marvel how perfectly the glass fit in his hand. 

“Jiyong-ah-”

“It doesn’t matter Ki.” Jiyong drank again. “It doesn’t.” They sat in silence, the shouts of the partygoers muted and seemingly far away. “He called me to him - to apologize - mend ties.” The words hung in the air as Kiko let him just exist in silence 

“I didn’t accept it,” he continued eventually, voice gently slurred. “The apology that is. For so long that’s all I thought I needed from him. Apologies, acceptance. But then I had it and I didn’t; I don’t. Need it. Him.” 

Jiyong turned to look at her, beautiful face and large eyes glowing in the dimness. “Seeing you up there tonight on that enormous catwalk. The crowd. My work. That’s what matters. That is what is important. It’s the reason I get up every day.” He shrugged. “It’s my life, my breath. It was all there tonight gliding across that stage. 

“What does it matter what a pathetic old man wants from me?” 

Kikos hand stroked soothing circles into his chest, snaked up to caress his cheek and hair. Jiyong closed his eyes and let himself  _ feel _ her, smell the chilled Parisian air, taste the warmth of the wine on his tongue. The soft, affectionate slurps of his lovebirds brought a smile to his face. Eyes closed, he spoke. “That man deserved nothing from me. My life now has nothing to do with him. He is gone. Buried.”

“So, what now?” She asked.

“Now,” he said reopening his eyes. “Now I go to bed. But, um, I’m gonna need some help.” Jiyong swayed as she pulled away to rise. She laughed and lent him a hand.

“And then?”

“And then back to work.” He stood and old habit had them arm in arm, holding each other as they made their way to Jiyong’s bed. They fell atop the covers. “Paris hasn’t seen the last of me,” he whispered as sleep came. 

“Of course you will,” she murmured. “Now go to sleep.”

He could always depend on her.

 

_ Get up _ . Jiyong groaned. It was far too early. He rolled over and pulled a pillow over his face. Jiyong felt a gentle nudge that he recognized as Youngbae and Seunghyun’s voice came again, stronger.  _ GET UP.  _

“No, go away,” Jiyong whined but he was too awake for them to leave. 

“Ji- please,” Youngbae said, and gave him a tug. 

“It’s like ass o’clock in the morning and I’ve been asleep like two minutes, what do you waaaant?”

Seunghyun gave him a tug and he found himself in a posh, modern corporate interior. 

“Swanky,” Jiyong said approvingly. “Hey I wonder. If my body stays in bed do you think this could be just like, a dream?” He threw himself into the empty chair beside the desk at which Seunghyun sat, leaning forward to rest his face against the desk, it’s cool glass just short of palpable.

_ Look at this _ , Seunghyun said into his mind. 

Jiyong sniffled and craned his neck but refusing to lift his head from the desk. “My Korean is shitty before noon.” Seunghyun glared at him, expression unchanged. Jiyong stared him down, scrunching his face in a pout. Then he got bored. “Fine,” he sighed, “scooch.” He smoothly pressed into Seunghyun’s mind. 

_ Medical records? _ He asked Seunghyun.

_ Yes _ . Seunghyun was a succinct in his own head as out of it. Jiyong rolled Seunghyun’s eyes and continued reading. Something about the medical records unsettled him but he couldn’t seem to place it. 

_ Seunghyun, where are we? _ Jiyong asked.

_ New job _ , was all the response Seunghyun supplied. Jiyong continued reading, closing his third file to open a fourth.

_ These - are sensates? _

_ Think so, _ Seunghyun replied. 

Some of what Jiyong was reading didn’t make sense unless -  _ It’s physical, whatever makes us  _ us _. It is an actual, physical, genetic thi- of course it is, How else would it work. Biologically speaking. We’re,  _ he continued reading,  _ not even human anymore. Maybe that’s going too far; I’m not sure but-  _ he opened the fifth record.  _ I would think we are relatively rare.  _

Jiyong tabbed back over to the main access window.  _ There are dozens of records here. _ He looked around again.  _ Where  _ is _ this place? _

Jiyong stumbled and felt himself rudely shoved aside. He fell onto the floor at Seunghyun’s feet. A pair of red stilettos clacked on the tile floor. 

A woman’s voice echoed in the room. “I’ll need these forms completed by the end of day.” 

Jiyong stood up from behind Seunghyun’s chair. A woman in her mid thirties addressed Seunghyun. Jiyong arched a brow. He knew Korean’s liked to show as much leg as possible but usually they didn’t pair that with skin-tight and low-cut. The woman was leaving little to the imagination. The designer in him decried the taste level.

“Yes, Ms. Eunji,” Seunghyun replied, bowing his head. Jiyong gaped to watch the old stick-in-the mud actually smile up at the woman. Jiyong went a little light headed at the emergence of  _ dimples _ on Seunghyun’s cheeks as he took a sheaf of papers from the woman. 

He mentally swooned.  _ And now I’m a sixteen year old girl,  _ he sighed. Seunghyun’s mental death glare at Jiyong was adorable for all that nothing of it showed on his face.

“Be sure to drop them off with accounting,” the woman said as she took pains to lean over the desk, top clinging on for dear life. “I’ve taken the liberty,” she continued, looking coyly at Seunghyun through her lashes, “of marking the essentials for your  _ benefit _ .” The slender finger pointing at a line on the sheet Seunghyun held wandered too-aimlessly towards her neck to be casual. 

Jiyong snorted.  _ She ain’t got much but she’s gonna use every bit of it. _

“Yes Ms. Eunji,” Seunghyun said, nearly beaming and the woman simpered.

_ Not that anything that she’s got would interest  _ you _ anyways,  _ Jiyong commented.

“Oh,” the woman said, “call me  _ noona _ , please Mr. Seunghyun.” Jiyong giggled behind his hand, moving into Seunghyun’s peripheral vision to simper and bat his eyes. The memory of Seunghyun’s mental ire would keep Jiyong warm on cold nights. 

Finally, the woman stood and straightened her skirt, what little of it there was. “I’ll be back in four hours,” she announced.

_ Goody, _ Jiyong provided. He bounced from foot to foot.  _ Go, go, go, gogogo. _ He mentally harangued her as she took her time making her exit. 

“Ok, zip-lip,” Jiyong said as soon as she was out of sight. “Spill, now.” Seunghyun looked physically pained. “Oh, my God, you can speak, come on! What was with that act?”

_ This is a front, _ Seunghyun started.

“Of course you don’t use your actual mouth,” Jiyong grumped then shut up to let Sunghyun continue. 

_ This company is affiliated with BPO. I originally applied for entry-level but  _ got noticed _ by upper management.  _

Jiyong acknowledged Seunghyun’s discomfort at preferential treatment because of his face with a wave of his hand. “Yes, everyone knows Korean’s are image obsessed,” Jiyong said. “No shame in using that to your advantage. So, what, you slutted it up a little bit to get a chushy desk job.”

_ She’s the Regional Director,  _ Seunghyun explained.  _ From here I have access to Partner Assets.  _ Seunghyun turned to click at the computer. 

“So the company is a medical facility for what? People like us? Research? None of anything I just read has been in any medical publication I’ve ever seen and some of these records go back to back when I was studying. If there was anything I would have seen it. On top of that from the little we’ve gotten from Seungri and Lito BPO aren’t exactly the good guys.”

The information had been loose on actual details but the impression of danger had been clearly relayed. 

“What is this?” Jiyong muttered, more to himself than Seunghyun. 

_ Not sure.  _ Seunghyun answered.  _ I need more intel. I can’t see the whole picture from here. I needed you to understand the medical stuff. _

_ “ _ There’s more to this. You said before that BPO is into all sorts of things.”

Seunghyun nodded.  _ I’ve got Daesung looking at an endorsement deal with a pharmaceutical. He should meet with them soon and we can use that link for inside access to an actual facility.  _

Jiyong looked back over Seunghyun’s shoulder at the medical records flicking by. He had a feeling that the bigger picture was going to be ugly.

 

By the time Jiyong returned to his body there was really no sense in trying to get any more sleep. He rolled over in bed to a note on the pillow. Kiko and the rest of the crew had gone off for brunch. Just as well. He’d use the morning to see if he could meet up with Hyunseung. He’d actually expected to see more of Hyunseung while he’d been in Paris but so far an actual in-person meeting had never materialized. 

Jiyong reached along the sensate threads he connected to Hyunseung and found nothing. It wasn’t too alarming as that happened when the person on the other end was asleep, though he didn’t think Hyunseung the type to sleep all day. 

He rolled out of bed and into a fresh set of clothes, smelled himself and thought better of leaving immediately.  _ Shower, at least.  _ He licked his lips and swallowed.  _ And brush the teeth. _

It was nearly noon by the time he made it onto the Paris streets. He kept reaching out to Hyunseung only to come up with nothing. Jiyong cursed. If only he’d thought to actually get a phone number… or a last name. 

He figured he’d try the cafe that Hyunseung seemed to haunt, ask around and see if he could find anyone who knew him. He remembered the name, enough to pull up the location on his phone. 

A short walk and bus ride later he was at the place “Cafe Limonad”. Something about it seemed off. Puzzled he looked at the tables and chairs filling the sidewalk in front of the cafe. They’d updated their furniture. Walking past the outdoor seating, he made his way in to the bar. 

“Bonjour,” the girl seemed new, Jiyong couldn’t remember having seen her before. 

“Uh, Bonjour,” Jiyong said in terrible French. “English?” He crossed his fingers in hope. 

“Oui, I speak English,” her accent was thick but parsable. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Hyunseung? He is a regular?”

She looked confused. “Hyun-sseung?” She stumbled over the name. “I do not know.”

“Are you new, maybe you haven’t gotten to know him-” 

“No, monsieur, I have worked here for over a year, I don’t know anybody-”

Jiyong cut her off. “He’s a little taller than me, skinny, Asian, longish black hair?”

“No, I’m sorry, I do not know anyone like that.”

“Is there anyone else here?” The room seemed to be spinning around Jiyong. He felt sick. 

“Oui, un moment.” She disappeared and the unsettled feeling that had begun when he saw the cafe began to creep around Jiyong’s heart. This couldn’t be right. He recognized the cafe if not the furniture. He’d been here many times with Hyunseung. The waitresses always seemed to recognize him.  _ She said she’d worked here for a year. _

“Can I help you?”

Jiyong turned and recognized the tall man at the counter and felt a pang of relief. “Yes, hi, sorry I think I upset the waitress but I’m looking for Hyunseung, he’s a regular.” The man furrowed his brow.

“Jiyong-” a voice called him just barely on the edge of his hearing, but Jiyong couldn’t turn to face it. His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. 

“Hyunseung,” Jiyong repeated.

“I’m sorry, Hyunseung hasn’t been here for months and months.”

“That’s not possible,” Jiyong said. “I was here with him only a couple weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man said. “It is true though. I am here every day.”

“Jiyong, over here,” Hyunseung’s voice was louder but still too muted. Turning, Jiyong looked to the spot outside, Hyunseung’s favorite metal table. The table was empty - but not. The room spun and he stumbled 

“Are you ok?” The man asked but Jiyong waved him off, making his way to Hyunseung.

“Jiyong, you’re here!” Hyunseung said and gestured to the empty seat beside him. Double vision confused Jiyong’s brain and he reached out to touch Hyunseung’s arm, resting upon black cast iron. Jiyong’s hand passed through Hyunseung as if through air to rest upon sun-warmed wood. Looking up, there was only air, emptiness where Hyunseung had been. 

“Monsieur!” It was the waitress from earlier. The world seemed to shift and spin. Jiyong reached out, desperate, needing someone, anyone from his cluster. He felt his body hit the floor as his mind found itself in Seoul, looking over Daesung’s shoulder. 

A white haired man, distinguished, with elegant glasses perched on his straight nose was bowing slightly as he took Daesung’s hand.“Pleasure you could meet us, apologies for the time. I’m Dr. Matheson. Welcome to our facility.” 

Terror clamped down on Jiyong’s heart. He knew this man. 

“Daesung, no! Daesung don’t!” He shouted, incoherent.  _ Whispers _ . Jiyong screamed mentally before his head hit the ground of a sidewalk cafe in Paris and darkness took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the rough beta, I wanted to try to get something posted this week then work happened. If you notice anything egregious please let me know as I think my timeline's got a bit screwy but haven't had a chance to really give this the beta it deserves. Thanks to those of you still here!


	19. Seungri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies - there was like 2k words missing when I posted this earlier this week. Should be fixed now!

Warm hands danced up under his A-shirt to tweak at the sensitive skin of his chest. Seungri yelped out a giggle. “You found them.”

Daniella laughed and relinquished his niples in favor of stroking hands up and down the planes of his chest and stomach. She hummed her appreciation and Seungri scooched back into her, relishing his turn at little spoon. 

“What time is it?” he asked. “I didn’t hear your alarm.” It had to be early, the room was pitch black. 

“5 am.” She pouted. He couldn’t see it but it was thick in her voice. 

Smiling, he rolled in her arms to face her. “Not too early to” - he wriggled his hips suggestively and pressed a hand to the small of her back. Teeth began to nibble at his collar and neck, sending heat straight to his morning wood. 

“No, no,” Daniella gasped as he rocked up into her, hands exploring the roundness of her ass. “I have an early call.”

“No?” he asked and she pulled back. The chill of the room invaded the void she left in the sheets as she pulled away. 

Seungri whined pitifully and burrowed into her pillow. It smelled of her hair. He rolled himself into a sad bed-burrito  as she shuffled her way to the shower. “I could be quick,” he called after her. 

“I’ll send you a snap of my boobs from the shower,” she promised then disappeared down the hall. 

Seungri grabbed for his phone and rolled onto his back, wincing as his sore muscles protested. Junsu’s bed wasn’t exactly the softest. Junsu had opted to spend the night with Jaejoong at his latest gig: housesitting for a wealthy couple across town. He’d said it was so he didn’t have to hear Seungri whining about how little alone time he got with Daniella, but Seungri knew it was really because Junsu loved him and wanted him to be happy.  Having his cousin’s room for a night in an actual bed with his actual girlfriend was close to heaven. 

His phone beeped and, delighted, Seungri flicked it on to an astounding series of snaps of Daniella and her perfect tits. He stroked a lazy hand over his stomach as he rolled his hips up into the sheets, enjoying the tantalizing cool glide over the fabric of his briefs. 

“That’s nice,” he said to himself as he saved a shot of Daniella leaning on the bathroom sink, photo angled to catch the valley between her breasts. The hand on his stomach dropped to his cock to palm at his full shaft. 

Between the snaps and the knowledge that Daniella was in  _ his  _ shower at that moment, body glistening from the water in  _ his _ pipes - Seungri didn’t last long. 

“I told her,” he grumped to himself as he cleaned himself off with a sock rescued from the floor by the bed. He dozed and awoke again to Daniella kissing him goodbye. 

He meant to wake up when she left but instead he awoke in the half-dark of early morning with a sharp pain stabbing into his head. He cried out in echo of a voice he recognized as Jiyongs - screaming a warning at Daesung. Seungri detached from his body to try to follow the yell but was unable to reach Jiyong. Heart thundering, veins spiking with adrenalin, he turned instead to Daesung.

 

Also  summoned by Jiyong’s shout, Seunghyun and Jiyong appeared next to him by Daesung. They stood in an upscale lobby, floor to ceiling windows taking up an entire side wall, revealing an expansive view of Seoul’s Han River. 

Daesung bowed over the hand of an elderly, friendly-looking man with glasses. Seungri was too distracted by the mumbling and gesturing from Youngbae and Seunghyun to make out exactly what based between the other two. 

“I think Jiyong’s passed out,” Youngbae said. Seungri nodded. 

I heard him shout a warning at Dae - I couldn’t get to him,” Seungri explained. Seunghyun nodded in agreement. 

“I’m staying with Dae,” Seunghyun said and stepped closer to the other two finishing up their introductions.  

“I’m gonna wait and see if I can get through to Jiyong,” Youngbae said and disappeared. 

It made sense. Of all of them Youngbae seemed to have the easiest time reaching any person in the cluster before anyone else. Seungri seemed to need people almost completely awake but Youngbae - sometimes he swore he was still half dreaming when Youngbae would just show up. Jiyong could do it too, but not as well as Youngbae. Of any of them, Youngbae would get to Jiyong fastest. 

Seungri fell into step with Seunghyun behind Daesung. They walked through typical high-end office space. It was past typical business hours but over three quarters of the desks were still occupied and none of the workers showed any signs of stopping.

“I was surprised,” the old man said, “at the request to tour the facility.”

“Well, I have a lot of endorsement offers - even now,” Daesung said with a warm smile, “but I like to know what it is I am endorsing. It’s my face after all.” His smile went mega-watt and he laughed self-deprecatingly. “I do thank you for honoring my request, though, Dr. Matheson.”

His tour guide smiled in return and the feelings rolling off Sunghyun spiked, a honed knife twisting at Seungri. Barely contained hostility emanated from the assassin. Seungri forced himself back down onto his heels, not conscious of having shifted up onto the balls of his feet, fighter’s stance. 

He glared but Seunghyun ignored him in favor of wandering up and down the rows of desks as they passed - as far as Daesung’s perception allowed. He paused occasionally to read a screen. He couldn’t do much - limited to what Daesung could actually perceive but apparently it was enough for Seunghyun. 

“So, you have an impressive amount of office space,” Daesung said as they passed a bay of empty conference rooms. 

“Yes, sales and procurement,” Dr. Matheson said.

“The workday ended an hour ago,” Seungri snarked. “You Korean’s have no clue how to live.” He sensed Daesung’s incredulity as his attention broke from Dr. Matheson’s explanation of supply lines to mentally jab at Seungri. 

_ You’re Korean _ , Daesung mentally shot at him, peppering his thoughts with exasperation. 

“Yeah,” Seungri said, “I’m Korean but I’m not  _ Korean.  _ I know how to have a  _ life _ . I don’t” - he broke off to wave at the rows of people staring at computers. For good measure he waved at the moon just peeking through the large windows. 

_ Whatever, _ Daesung sighed. 

Seungri screwed up his face and mouthed a whatever at Daesung’s bck. He had no clue how one managed to sigh mentally and yet Daesung had managed it. 

Passing through a set of wooden double doors, they emerged into a large atrium space. 

“This leads to the research spaces,” Dr. Matheson said, leading Daesung through an array of suspended bridges. 

Daesung nodded then eyed Seungri.  _ Stop gawking _ . 

“I’m not gawking, this place is swank.” Seungri rolled his eyes. He followed close behind Daesung but Seunghyun continued hovering around their perimeter.

“I don’t like this,” Seunghyun said.

“Don’t like what?” Seungri asked but Seunghyun didn’t respond. Instead he continued his stalking as the observed a handful of manufacturing rooms full of metal and white-clad attendants. Dr. Matheson detailed the processes that went into the manufacturing of their products. 

Meanwhile, Seungri studied Seunghyun, trying to get more than just vague sentiment from him. He tried to focus on Seunghyun’s emotions. There was only one but Seungri couldn’t even name it; an intense awareness coiled tight like a spring, almost like how Seungri felt before a fight but - with more menace. It wasn’t that Seunghyun craved violence but if it came it wouldn’t be unwelcome. The image that came to mind was a blade, wicked and black and sharp, made only to kill.

Before Seungri could fall into the well of Seunghyun’s emotions, Youngbae appeared. The waves of intensity pulling at Seungri abated, calmed by Youngbae’s presence. 

“Jiyong’s awake - kind of.” Youngbae’s face was creased with strain. Beside him, Jiyong seemed to flicker in and out of focus. He looked pale - tired. Seungri reached out with a hand as if to touch him and he was gone. Youngbae grimaced and disappeared as well. 

Daesung - consummate professional - displayed only polite interest focused completely on Dr. Matheson. His eyes hadn’t even flinched towards Jiyong’s spectre. 

“Man, you’re good, Dae,” Seungri said. 

Daesung ignored that as well and Seungri whistled, laughing as Daesung sent him another mental jab. “No animal testing?” Daesung asked as he was waved towards a series of lab spaces. 

“I can assure you all our products are free from animal testing,” Dr. Matheson answered. He waved at the group of researchers visible through the observation window. “This team is currently working on the health side of ‘health and beauty’. Remarkable products we hope to bring to market soon.”

Daesung hummed and nodded. “Health how?”

“A series of drugs that show remarkable properties for memory retention and mental abilities.”

“Really?” 

“All in the research phase still,” Dr. Matheson added hurriedly, “but-”.

“That sounds amazing, still,” Daesung said. 

They stepped back and continued walking down another corridor.  Keeping up, Seungri tried to mimic Seunghyun’s menace but mostly he was bored. There seemed to be nothing worthing prompting Jiyong’s outburst that he could see. Maybe Jiyong was cracking under the pressure.

“Man,” Seungri said aloud, “maybe I should get going - I have to work.” They’d been at least an hour and he was surprised Junsu hadn’t come home to shout at him to get to work. 

“If you have to go, go,” Seunghyun said as they followed Daesung and Dr. Matheson into an elevator. 

“No” - Seungri didn’t feel right leaving. The desperate terror in Jiyong’s voice before he went silent coupled with Seunghyun’s tension pulled at him. “No, I should stay.” Not that he was sure what he could possibly  _ do _ . Still, need kept him in Seoul. 

He hoped that whatever it was that was bothering Jiyong appeared soon - or Jiyong awoke enough to explain himself. Between fighting and his cluster and Daniella - well his captain’s frustrated sighs had given way to hard stares and terse words in the last few weeks. He wasn’t sure how much he could push it. 

Daesung stopped walking and Seungri realized they’d returned to the lobby. 

“Well, thank you so much.” Daesung bowed to Dr. Matheson. “I will have my office contact you this week. I hope you don’t mind me wanting to see the facility before signing on to endorse.”

“ Of course.” Dr. Matheson’s hand stretched out and enveloped Daesung’s. Warmth seemed to emanate from it in a way that even Seungri felt. Daesung’s smile was genuine as it spread in response. “We understand how much one’s name means. It is why we wanted you, Kang Daesung.” He let go Daesung’s hand and the warmth disappeared almost instantly. Seungri drew his brows down and the darkness rolling off Seunghyun beside him was palpable. “We look forward to a profitable and beneficial partnership.” 

Seunghyun and Seungri followed Daesung out. Neither speaking but all three full of thoughts. They sat in silence until Daesung’s driver had pulled away from the sleek building and merged into late night Seoul traffic. 

“I don’t like this,” Seunghyun said. The pronouncement was followed by a well of emotions that said enough on their own. 

“What?” Seungri asked. “I didn’t see anything. To be honest it was all boring as hell.”

“I didn’t like it either,” Daesung said under his breath, lips barely moving so as to not disturb his driver. “Something about him felt - off.”

Daesung went rigid, suddenly stiff. His eyes took on a glazed, far away look. Seunghyun reached out and gripped Daesung’s thigh hard, fingers biting into muscle. 

“Dae,” Seungri snapped his fingers in front of Daesung’s eyes. “Daesung!” Daesung blinked. 

“Hold on,” Daesung whispered, eyes momentarily focusing on Seungri. “You can’t see him can  you?” 

“Who?”

Seunghyun was positively murderous. “Come back to us. Now, Daesung.” 

Daesung gave a small shake of his head. “No hold  _ on _ ,” he whispered fiercely and his eyes unfocused again.

“You’re one too!” Daesung whispered to Seunghyun and Seungri but the words were for neither of them. A sinking rock fell into the pit of Seungri’s stomach. Daesung was talking to someone who was there, but wasn’t. Another one of  _ them. _

Seungri sat at the edge of his seat, eyes riveted on Daesung. 

“This is amazing,” Daesung whispered. “Yes you’re the first - apart from” - somehow Daesung had met another Sensate and was talking to them. Like Seungri did with Lito. Lito had mentioned one of his cluster was in Seoul. He wondered if that was who Daesung had found. And why now? Why visit Daesung now? Where had they met?

“Ya - Seungri - wake up.”

Seungri started and nearly fell off his couch. Shaking his head he looked up at Junsu, shaking him awake. “Hyung?” Seungri asked. “You’re back?”

“Ya, I’ve been calling you for half an hour.” Junsu looked at him in concern. “You are going to be late.”

“Junsu I can’t-”

“Seungri you’ve been sleeping in too much lately-”

“I know I just - there’s something going on.”

“The danger?” Junsu asked. “That Lito talked about?”

“I think,” Seungri sat and tried to throw his feet over his bed. They didn’t quite make it. “I don’t know… something happened to Jiyong.”

“He’s sick?”

Seungri  scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know.”

“Ri I know this is all important but -” Junsu sat to look him in the eye. “Ri you can’t keep coming in late.  Between the fighting and the cluster it’s happening too much.” Junsu paused. “Seungri, you’re gonna get fired.”

“I know, I know but I don’t know what else to do! This is important! Just tell them I’m sick and I’ll come in a few hours late.”

“Ri-”

“This is important, Su.” Seungri wished Junsu was part of his cluster. He  _ needed _ Junsu to understand how much this mattered.

A hand settled on his head. Junsu’s voice was tight but resigned as he conceded,  “Alright, Ri, I’ll see what I can do.” Junsu’s hand dropped to Seungri’s shoulder. “But please. Be careful. I’m gonna leave some food and water here. You can’t spend  _ all _ your time,” Junsu waved his hand in the air, “wherever. Just please, take care of yourself.” He shouldn’t have doubted Junsu. 

Seungri nodded and lay back down, hoping to Daesung. 

They were still in the car, Seunghyun’s face a solid mask hiding his territorial rage and Daesung still muttering, eyes focusing on nothing.  

Daesung spoke. “It’s been a few months. I don’t know who, her name-” Nothing in Daesung’s outward demeanor changed. His body language was open, affable, eyes wide with interest, but linked, Seungri could feel the discomfort roiling through him. This was not good. Daesung was growing increasingly upset. 

“I-” Daesung broke off, listening. “I will try. I need to talk to them.” Daesung nodded. “Yes, yes we’ve met some others who talked about the danger.” He nodded again and Seungri felt Daesung’s panic increase, mixing with anger. “I understand. Thank you so much it  _ is _ all so strange.”

The car arrived at Daesung’s place and they waited for his driver to open the door. “He’s gone,” Daesung said to Seungri and Seunghyun before stepping out of the car. In silence the trio walked up to Daesung’s home. 

“It was Dr. Matheson,” Daesung explained as they walked in. 

“He’s a sensate!” Seungri exclaimed, stating the obvious. 

“Who was Dr. Matheson?” Jason emerged from the bedroom to join Daesung in the living room. 

“Seungri and Seunghyun are here,” Daesung said and he sat on the couch, back stiff and voice terse. “They went with me to tour the facility. The tour guide - one of their board members I think - was a white man. Dr. Matheson. He’s a sensate.”

“How do you know?” Jason asked as he slid in behind Daesung to wrap a comforting arm around Daesung. “Hi Seunghyun, Seungri,” Jason whispered into the air.  Seungri smiled and waved hello.

Seunghyun glared at him but he ignored it. Jason would feel the spirit of Seungri’s acknowledgement even if he couldn’t see it. 

“Seungri waved and Seunghyun glared.” Or Daesung would just pass along the message. “And he showed up in the car on the way home,” Daesung continued, answering Jason’s question. “It was - strange. He seemed very kind, but something about him - even when we were on the tour but mostly when he was in the car it just felt-

“Wrong.” Seunghyun said, definitively.

“Wrong,” Daesung agreed. He sank back into Jason’s arms. 

“It’s his eyes,” Daesung explained. “There’s something greedy about them. His words and his face seem, honest, caring even but -” 

Seungri admitted to himself that he didn’t see it but he could feel Daesung’s conviction and Seunghyun’s assessment was just as cutting. 

“He said that part of one of their companies exists to help sensates, it’s what he does. He brings them in and provides information, support, help for people like us.” Daesung gestured at Seungri and Seunghyun. 

“But it didn’t feel right?” Jason prompted. “You don’t trust him.”

Jiyong appeared in front of them, sitting cross legged on the coffee table. “You shouldn’t trust him.” 

“Ji-” Daesung said, starting forward. “Are you ok? You screamed then left.”

“Hyunseung,” Jiyong stated as if it was an explanation but he waved it off. “Dr. Matheson is evil. Evil. Why did you meet him?” Jiyong asked Daesung.

“He was guiding the tour of the facility Seunghyun wanted me to see,” Daesung answered. “He’s like us. Sensate.”

“Shit,” Jiyong cursed. “Shit, Daesung this is bad, this is really bad.”

“Jiyong is in the hospital,” Youngbae explained as he appeared by Jiyong. 

“Hospital!” Seungri said.

“Shut it, everyone!” Seunghyun actually snapped. They all looked at him, well save Jason who could only look at Daesung in concern.

“Jiyong ok?” Seunghyun asked. Jiyong nodded and Youngbae sent a wave of comfort to all of them. “Hyunseung?” 

“Missing,” Jiyong said.

“Later then,” Seunghyun said. 

“I can try-” Youngbae offered.

“Later,” Seunghyun repeated. He looked at Jiyong, who disappeared for a moment before reappearing.

“That man,” Jiyong said. “That- he” - Jiyong disappeared again. Youngbae reached out a hand to where Jiyong had been sitting and Jiyong reappeared. “Sorry.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That doctor is - evil.” 

Connected, Seungri could feel the emotion behind Jiyong’s words. Evil couldn’t completely encapsulate it. Seungri’s stomach rolled. He felt like he was about to be sick. 

“He, I don’t know how, he’s powerful, connected, I guess-” Jiyong raised his palms to press against his eyes, as if trying to purge images from his mind. His breathing was hard, erratic. Seungri felt a rising panic propel him from his seat to stalk the room. The feeling’s weren’t his, but they made him move anyway. 

“Start at the beginning, Ji,” Daesung said, voice a soothing balm. 

“I saw him do things,” Jiyong said. “Terrible things. He was a ‘ _ Doctor’  _ when I was a resident in San Francisco. He ordered Lobotomies on at least 2 people I knew of. Lobotomies that were completely unnecessary. I still-” Jiyong shuddered and Youngbae flickered to sit behind him, arms wrapping around Jiyong as he tried to disappear into himself. 

The intense pressure - adrenalin - in Seungri built up, too much to bear. He turned and threw a punch at the nearest wall. It hurt like hell but resulted in no sound. Shrugging off Seunghyun’s glare, Seungri hit the wall again. 

“Keep going,” Daesung prompted. Seungri noticed that Daesung’s knuckles were white around Jason’s hand. Jason, for his part looked concerned and took the pressure without complaint. 

“I can still hear them, before the drugs kicked in, begging - screaming - that they were sane, that they didn’t consent.” Jiyong looked at them, eyes wide. “I was just a resident. I was supposed to do what I was told. I mean I should have gone to - I should have told someone - ethically -

“It’s ok, Ji,” Seungri said. Jiyong’s panic was a live thing fueling him. Seungri could barely breathe through it. “It’s ok. Whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

Jiyong continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I meant to say something. I was going to but one of the nurses - when she said something she -”

Seunghyun reached a hand out to Jiyong’s shoulders, kneeling in front of him. “It’s ok, now.” He said. And something passed in a look between them, between just them two. Jiyong breathed deep and nodded. 

“He lobotomized two people, then they disappeared. Transferred to another facility. Well, he didn’t do it exactly. He had it done. Other doctors did his dirty work, Metzger, whatever, but I know it was him behind it.”

“I believe you,” Daesung said. “He was nice and all but-” Daesung turned to Jason to clarify, “Jiyong knows the doctor from the tour. Says he’s -”

“Evil,” Jiyong said.

“Evil,” Daesung repeated. “And a sensate,” he added. “He said that his company exists to help sensates, help us come to terms with what we are. He explained it all on the car ride home”

“We can’t trust him,” Youngbae declared.

“Does the other cluster know him?” Seunghyun asked. 

Seungri blinked. “Uh, I can go ask.” 

 

Seungri came to himself still in bed. The feelings of his cluster were so overwhelming he had to fight to stay where he was as compulsion kept pulling him to them. 

“Lito,” Seungri whispered to himself. Closing his eyes he imagined Lito, his room at his mother’s and sure enough, popped up there in order to catch him mid-doing his boyfriend. He popped back to his cluster to 5 pairs of eyes.

“Sorry,” he stammered then tried hopping back. The moment had been enough for Lito and Hernando to have covered themselves with the thinnest of sheets. “Sorry,” Seungri said to the pair.

“That’s one way to kill a boner,” Lito teased. 

Seungri’s face went flaming hot. “I’m sorry.” He ducked his head into his hands and screwed his eyes tight. “It’s important.”

“He say’s it’s important,” Lito wishered to Hernando.

“It better be,” Hernando said, but he was smiling. 

“Do you know a Dr. Matheson. In San Francisco. Have you, any of your cluster, met him?”

“Matheson?” Lito asked.

“Older white guy, white hair, glasses,” Seungri tried to describe him.

“No,” Lito jumped from the bed. “No Seungri have you met him? Looked in his eyes?” He turned to toss the bedding, grabbing for his pants. “Is he here? If he’s here we need to leave. Hernando.”

“No!” Seungri said, trying to get a word in to Lito’s rapid fire babble. “No he isn’t here! He isn’t in Mexico City. I haven’t seen him.”

Lito paused, one leg in a pair of pants. “Then how do you know his name?”

“Daesung,” Seungri said. “Daesung met him. He didn’t know what he was and they met through work. Then that Dr. Matheson appeared and offered to help us.”

“Do not believe him!” Lito snapped. Hernando reached a hand out to grab Lito’s wrist, pulling him down to sit on the bed. “Seungri, he is dangerous. I am so sorry for your Daesung. Dr. Matheson - he - his company - they  _ hunt _ sensates. They take one and use them to hunt the rest of the cluster. Our Will - he’s hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“Whispers is relentless. He doesn’t stop, he will drive Daesung mad to get to you. The only answer is to make Daesung helpless, senseless, drug him out of his mind so Whisper’s cannot find him.”

“Whispers?”

“It is what he is,” Lito explained. “Whispers of madness in the dark.”

“Daesung won’t do that, he can’t do that. He’s a celebrity.”

Lito shrugged. “Seungri, there is nothing else to be done. We don’t know of anything else. Daesung is in danger, and now so are the rest of you.”

“No, that won’t be.” Seungri felt his stubborn heart set itself in stone. “We will fight him.”

“We have tried.”

“Well  _ we  _ haven’t yet,” Seungri snapped. Incensed, he flicked to Seoul. He wasn’t going to be spooked by Lito’s boogey man. If Whispers was bad news Seunghyun would take him out, he was North Korean special forces for crying out loud. Plopping down in Daesung’s living room he sneered in the way of Mexico City.

“Lito say’s this guy - Dr. Matheson, Whispers, whatever - is bad news. Says he kidnaps Sensates, hunts them down. He got to one of theirs. Said the only way to keep Dr. Matheson out of your head is to drug you up so you’re useless,” he said to Daesung.

“I don’t want to be drugged up,” Daesung said, looking around the room. 

“No.” Seunghyun’s voice was deadly calm. “No, if he is a threat he will be eliminated.”

“How?” Jiyong asked

“We need to find Hyunseung,” Seunghyun said. “Jiyong, can you?”

Jiyong shrugged. “I’ll probably be out of the hospital tomorrow. They’ll want to run some scans to be sure I don’t have a concussion, probably keep me overnight for observation. I’ll do what I can after that.” Seunghyun nodded. “Paris is a big city, though. I don’t even know how many hospitals, much less clinics, are in the city, or the suburbs. What if he isn’t even in France?” 

“I could go to you,” Youngbae offered and Seungri’s neck nearly snapped as his head jerked with the force of Seunghyun’s negation. “Or, not.” 

“I could go-” Seungri offered. Really, he couldn’t. He had no time off, and he was already on thin ice with his CO. But this was important. His cluster needed him. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that his  _ family _ needed him, too, Junsu’s and Jaejoong’s faces popping into his mind. “My dad - my dad is the South Korean ambassador assigned to Paris,” he admitted. “If anything goes wrong, that might help.” Seungri paused, then added, “plus he’s rich.”

_ I’m sorry, hyungs, _ Seungri said to himself. 

 

He jumped out of bed, managing to stub his toe on the edge of the couch. Cursing, he hopped into his pants and scanned the room for his phone. No dice - he must have left it in the kitchen. 

Sure enough, it was on the counter by the stove. Junsu  had made potato and eggs. Smiling sadly to himself, Seungri grabbed a tortilla from the styrofoam warmer and tossed in a spoonful of eggs. Wrapping his breakfast, he shoved half of it in his mouth as he slipped his feet into his battered sneakers. 

His hair would have to do with finger-combing. He polished off the taco and ran to Junsu’s room to get the tattered, unused valise they shared. In theory he had plenty of days off accrued. Never getting sick had its perks, and generous leave was one of the few perks of a government job. 

The bag was only half full of mostly dirty clothes when he zipped it up. Seungri winced but surely washing machines existed in France. 

“Passport,” he mumbled to himself. Junsu kept all of their important papers in the bottom drawer of his desk. Kneeling, Seungri pulled it open for the first time since they’d lived together. Manila tabs, meticulously noted, marched row upon row. Bank statements, doctor's bills, leases, purchases - Seungri scanned until he came to his name. Opening the folder he found an assortment of documents and an several unopened envelopes. 

He ran his fingers over the return address of one, over his father’s name. Like clockwork, his father had continued putting in his diplomatic paperwork at every new posting, despite Seungri having been adamant about cutting all ties. 

It’s a good thing Seungri didn’t mind eating crow. Well, he didn’t mind  _ that  _ much. He still sneered in disgust at the thought of actually seeing his father. Ruffling through the unopened envelopes, he found the one postmarked from Paris. Ripping into it, he found his passport and a sheaf of legal mumbo-jumbo. He returned the rest of Junsu’s files and shoved the envelope into the suitcase. 

Riding in the back of a cab, he texted Junsu on his way - letting him know he was coming in but taking time off. Junsu seemed alarmed but Seungri didn’t feel up to long-winded explanations through text, instead he pulled up the Air France website. Flights seemed to be running all day long. 

_ Shit. Money _ . But before he could panic a hand reached out and settled on his knee. At the same time, his phone buzzed. 

“Seunghyun is texting you from a number,” Youngbae explained, appearing in the backseat of the cab along-side Seungri. Sure enough a text had appeared on Seungri’s screen from an unknown international number. It looked like meaningless spam from a Nigerian Prince. “That’s the bank account for the bank that is about to send you a spam email. There should be enough in there for travel.”

“How?”

“Seunghyun apparently has some discretionary income.”

“Shit, what are we doing?” Seungri whispered under his breath.

“Just what we discussed.” Youngbae said, reassuringly. “You’re going to go help Jiyong find Hyunseung and we’re going to try to find a way to get Daesung free of this Whispers person.”

Seungri nodded. 

“Sir,” the cab driver said. “Sir, we are here.” They’d stopped in front of his precinct office.

Grabbing his suitcase, he paid the driver and then made his way in, nodding at the desk officer. 

“You’re late,” the officer said. 

Seungri gave his most winning smile in reply and wove through the first floor back to the locker room. He stowed his suitcase and turned to find another officer, Martinez, behind him, almost atop him. Startled, he took a step back. “Hey-”

“Chief wants to see you,” Martinez said, not even looking  _ at _ him, then spun on his heel and walked out. 

This was not good. “Shit,” Seungri mumbled. 

The door to the chief’s office was open, but meeting the chief’s stormy face had Seungri closing it behind him. 

“This is the fourth day you’ve been late this week!” The chief snapped. 

“Yes, sorry, sir,” Seungri said, standing at attention, spine rod-straight, arms stiff at his side. “I have been having some family issues-”

“I don’t care about that, I care about this-”

A stack of papers landed on the desk between them. They were of Seungri inside a ring. 

“Sir-” But before Seungri could explain, the door to the office opened and Junsu fell into the room beside Seungri.

“Sir- I can explain-” Junsu said in a rush. 

“Su-” Seungri said, alarmed. 

“I don’t believe I called you to my office, Officer Kim,” the chief said, voice cold and short. 

“Yes, but -” Junsu stopped as he saw the photos on the chief’s desk.

“Participation in underground clubs is unquestionably disallowed for Mexico City Police Officers,” the chief said.

Seungri tried to rack his mind for an explanation but there was none. No, he’d known this was possible, he just figured it far from likely - a stupid assumption. Of course he could be seen and recognized.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Ri,” Junsu hissed. Seungri shook his head. 

“You are placed on immediate leave pending investigation. Hand in your badge and leave my station. 

Junsu followed him out. “Ri - Seungri.” Seungri didn’t have time to stop. He had to get to the airport.

“Seungri!” Junsu said. He grabbed Seungri’s arm and yanked. 

“Junsu, I have to go,” Seungri hissed. 

“Go, go where? Seungri you just lost your job.”

“Not yet.”

“Well you will, where are you going? Why are you dressed like that and not your uniform? What is going on?”

“Su- I have to go to Paris.”

“Paris?” Junsu blinked. “Your father?”

“No, Hyunseung.”

“Seungri-”

“He is in danger, Junsu, we are  _ all _ in danger. He’s missing somewhere and Daesung is being targeted by one of those groups Lito told us about and I have to go.”

Seungri expected a fight, passioned reasoning trying to convince him he was mad. “Ok,” Junsu said and Seungri gaped. 

“You-”

“Ever since you met them, they’ve become your life. In a way we never have been.”

“Junsu-hyung,” Seungri said, falling into the affectionate name.

“It’s ok, Seungri.” Junsu looked him in the eye. “It’s ok. It is good. But where you are going - it is dangerous, yes?” Seungri bit his lip and nodded. “Jaejoong would kill me if I let you go alone.”

 

Thankfully there was enough in Seunghyun’s account for two tickets.


End file.
